


Road to All Things

by CultureisDarkBeer



Series: Road to All Things [1]
Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Car Sex, Episode: s07e17 All Things, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Heavy Angst, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Post-Episode: s07e17 All Things, Resolved Sexual Tension, Season/Series 07, Secret Relationship, Sex, Sex Talk, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Shower Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 76,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25321423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CultureisDarkBeer/pseuds/CultureisDarkBeer
Summary: Season Seven. Angst, tension, smut, and MSR. Leading up to All Things and finally Requiem
Relationships: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully, Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Series: Road to All Things [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2111088
Comments: 160
Kudos: 333





	1. As I Lay Dying

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50120977236/in/dateposted/)

I laid with my arms around Scully holding her tight. Her back pressed firmly to my chest, separated by our own clothes and the comforter of another tired decaying motel room. I’m trying to stop her bout of chills. The irony of a man dying with mere weeks left to live, comforting a woman as if she was dying of hypothermia. Truthfully, I had made up my mind when I saw her holding the baby in her arms, the look in her eye, and the dawning realization of all I had taken away from her. All the years, all the promise, and now I would be leaving her behind to reveal the lie, the secret I’ve been keeping all along. I had nothing to offer her and as my life ended, hers needed to begin. 

“It’s not worth it Scully.”

“What?”

“I want you to go home.”

“Mulder, I’m going to be fine.”

“No, no, I’ve been thinking about it. Looking at you tonight, holding that baby… knowing everything that’s been taken away from you. A chance for motherhood, and your health, and that maybe... I think that… I don’t know, maybe they’re right..”

“Who’s right?” 

“The FBI. Maybe what they say is true, though for all the wrong reasons. It’s the personal costs that are too high. There’s so much more you need to do with your life. There’s so much more than this. There has to be an end, Scully.”

I sent my hand across her forehead, my lips to her temple. She squeezed my hand in return. No matter what it took, I had to convince her to walk away. Like a premonition, or perhaps my own deep seeded fears, I wouldn’t risk her life. Not this time. I held her through the night. Inside me there was a storm of regret for a future that would never pass, of a torment she endured and continued because of a journey I would leave prematurely, although not premeditated. Our love would need to be left behind, dissolving into the Oregon woods. Much like the alien craft, intangible and invisible, but very much alive. 

**Nine months earlier in the hallway of Mulder’s apartment building...**

“Scully, I was like you once, I didn’t know who to trust. Then I… I chose another path… another life, another fate, where I found my sister. The end of my world was unrecognizable and upside down. There was one thing that remained the same. You.. were my friend, and  **you told me the truth** .  **Even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant… my touchstone** .”

“And you are mine.”

Mulder nodded his head in agreement. His heart, body, and mind grew to a realization of what his masterful soul spoke of in their truth.

  
  


The sun had set and the street lamp shone through his window, turning the blue glow of the fish tank to an emerald green. Mulder had spent the day lounging on the couch in a partial drug state from the meds given to him. The movies on the tv blissfully bled from one to the other. The hard knock on the door startled him from his dozing, his dreams wandering into the realms of his previous visions of another life. He would be lying if thoughts of Diana and her death hadn’t bled in as well. “Doors open!” he called out.

Scully meekly poked her head into the darkness of the apartment, the light from the hallway forming an angelic halo. “How’s the patient doing?” she asked as her deep red hair bustled by him. 

“Better, Doc,” Mulder returned, even though his last dose of meds had worn off and his head was still throbbing. He propped himself higher on the couch. “How’s the office without me?”

“Much bigger than it used to be.” Scully set down her briefcase seemingly amusing herself. “And neater.”

Mulder nodded. “I bet.” He made a conscious effort not to tilt his head when she bent over, but he didn’t stop his eyes from taking in the highlight of her violet slacks fondling her ass. 

He played the dutiful patient as Scully carefully unwrapped his bandages, only flinching once. The dried blood from a stitch had glued the cotton to his skin as she roughly ripped it away. In one of his magazines he once read that women with red hair were more likely to be into bondage and kink. As they shared a longing glare he wondered if pieces of that bled through into her patient care. 

“The stitches look good, any dizziness, nausea, trouble seeing?” she asked, leaning over him gently, touching his forehead to exam the incision area. Even that simple touch sent flames throughout his body and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his hand around her wrist and pull her down towards his lips. The recent brush with death was different than the other times. Perhaps because she flew all the way to Africa for his beliefs, or that she risked her life and career again, or maybe part of loving the life he lived included loving her. He swallowed his urge to kiss her with great difficulty. When she returned his gaze, the raging seas inside her irises crested and twisted at his heart. How did he convince them to roll the tide his way?

“I brought you dinner. I figured you’d need something a little more nutritious than hot dogs and mac and cheese.” Scully broke their stare and pulled from a bag two small containers. “Homemade General Tso’s chicken,” she joked.

He gave her a fake smile, but inside he was slightly disappointed. Once she had him over for a spaghetti dinner. It wasn’t her mother’s cooking, but not too shabby either. 

Their meal was unusually quiet. Mulder wasn’t really that hungry. His mind kept wandering to a place it had never been before and he wondered what ill effects the surgery really had on his brain. All he could imagine was his head between her legs making her come so hard she wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow and would be forced to spend the day in bed with him. 

“How long until I can be cleared to return to work?” he asked her. 

Scully dabbed at the corner of her mouth with the napkin. She even dabbed adorable. “You’ve got to give it a little time Mulder,” she returned. 

“There’s no difference sitting on this couch or in the office,” he shot back. 

If her demeanor wasn’t enough to show her discontent she added, “I should probably go, you need your rest.”

“Don’t go.” He hated it as soon as it left his lips. Admitting the loneliness had gotten the best of him. It sounded desperate, almost helpless. “Watch a movie with me.”

“Okay,” she answered softly. He wasn't sure if it was a pity thing, but he’d take it. Since they had confessed their vows in the hallway there was a new intimacy born yet a distance from the depth of that same intimacy. It was stronger now, at such a late hour. 

She put away the food and when she sat down he got a good sniff of her vanilla lavender scent. The real thing, not some lab created synthetic. The temptation was severe, but he dared not take another breath. There were so many things for them to talk about, but she silenced the urge when her hand seared his flesh with a casual touch to his leg. If there was ever a way to convince him he had left his dream state and survived, it was how her touch made him come alive; but if she moved that hand any higher, rigamortis might still set in. 

Very comfortably, like they had rode tricycles together when they were three, she leaned her head against his shoulder, exposing the graceful line of her neck. Before he could deter himself, he pressed his lips to her forehead and tasted her sweet skin. 

Like a vision of the future that was now in their grasp, he imagined himself  _ unzipping her slacks and sliding his hand inside _ .  _ When he reached the delicate lace of her panties, the one he had only seen the outline of once or twice, he’d slowly run his finger over the fabric.  _

He closed his eyes and flexed his foot so he wouldn’t groan. His body pulsed with need for a physical connection to match the one within.

_ Somehow, he knew when he did, she would be soaked for him. Then he’d push her panties to the side, and take his time, getting intimate with every bump and fold as he sucked and nibbled at her ear. _

As if on cue, Scully crossed her legs, almost creating a barrier for his imagery, but in his illusion s _ he ground her hips when his finger discovered that deep spot inside her. He’d tell her to close her eyes as she whispered his name.  _

The pleasure from the thought shot up his spine. He shifted in the couch cushion. These musings were making him hard and he didn’t want her to notice. Instead, Scully scooted closer, getting comfortable under his arm draped along the top of the couch.

The move so graceful, he pictured  _ her body gliding in time with his finger buried inside.  _

Scully lifted her head and locked their gaze and it felt as if she played in his thoughts. His imagination feeling  _ her fingernails digging deep into his skin, asking him to move faster. He’d do that and more, giving her clit ample attention with his thumb as his fingers did their work. _

Scully gripped his hand and he almost jumped. Their gaze locked and he realized her chest was moving in short pants. His mouth went dry. In his mind’s eye  _ he was leaning into her and whispering to her, “just let go, Scully.”  _

They stared at each other until finally she found her voice. “I, I need to use the restroom.” She got up swiftly and left him cold, hard, and alone- with two throbbing heads.

Mulder woke at Scully’s prodding, feeding him his medication. He gulped down the water and stumbled into his bedroom as she led him from the couch into the dark. She removed her shoes, but kept her clothes on. Her in his bed was an unusual move, but he knew secretly she was concerned with his healing. In this way, he knew logically, she felt she could provide immediate attention if he took a turn for the worse. There in the darkness they started on separate sides, him on his back and her facing the wall, until eventually, he slowly got up the nerve to mold his body to hers. They clasped each other in a warm, slow luxurious hug and all opposition melted. His chest rose and fell against her back, their breaths in unison. Usually only in times of extreme stress and heartache did they find themselves in each other’s arms, but tonight he believed it was because of all they had shared. He had read her mind, her feelings. He knew the severity and the depth of her love. Even if he thought he knew before, now he felt it in his own heart and mind. His arms wrapped around her brought him the peace he had only known with her, calming the storms in his heart. She gave fire to his hope and water to extinguish fears, a sun to enlighten days, and a moon to reflect her light into his darkness. A bright star even in empty skies. This, laying with her, was the only medicine he needed. 

Or was it? He felt reborn. Happy even. And he wasn’t going to deprive himself of what he wanted. It was time. He just had to tell her. 


	2. Future Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for returning for the 2nd chapter. If you're concerned that this might be all about Mulder and his brain disease, have no fear, it's really about MSR and the sex that goes with it, but I am determined to address it, so it is intertwined. That, and of course, Scully's desire to become pregnant. 
> 
> We are in the middle of the episode, "Hungry" and our MOTW Rob Roberts is having everyone for lunch. Which only ignites Scully's appetite.

“You hungry?” Scully asked as they left the last hamburger joint, concluding their investigation of the missing “Free Fer Friday” button. 

“Even after staring at all that brain matter?” Mulder grimaced. The woman had an iron stomach. 

“I told you. It was only residue from the raw hamburger.”

He shrugged and proceeded to the nearest diner at Scully’s request. Mulder wished his mind was only on the case. Given the facts he was already 90% certain it was a monster disguised as a model employee, and he had an inkling who that employee could be. But his thoughts were on his fantasies and the other night. Holding Scully, sitting next to her on the couch, imagining her rocking against the heel of his palm. The way she would moan. Watching her come would probably be the prettiest thing he had ever seen. The pull he felt for her lately, animalistic and intrinsic, had been stronger than any sexual attraction he had ever felt in the past. Their connection only compounded those feelings. 

When they got to the diner they took the last vinyl booth in the back and ordered a couple coffees and their lunch.

“The word around the office cooler this morning was that Agent Meetze asked his partner Brittany to marry him over the weekend,” Scully said cooly, eager to spread the latest gossip to her partner.

“And to think, we’ve been partners for six years Scully, and never even had sex,” Mulder said bluntly, ruffling through the sugar packets, handing Scully the stevia packet he knew she wanted for her coffee.

Her cheeks flamed for a moment then quickly cooled down. “Speak for yourself,” Scully answered jokingly. Then she added in a serious tone, “It would have been risky. Reckless.”

“Dangerous,” Mulder finished. 

The server dropped off two steaming cups of coffee and once she was gone Scully leaned in. “If we did… if it only happened once, it wouldn’t be so dangerous.”

“No?” It intrigued Mulder that she hadn’t dismissed the idea. He sipped his coffee and stared at Scully, watching her avoid his eye contact by endlessly stirring the stevia in her cup. 

“I mean, we’re two responsible, mature, professional, adults, it may even deepen our friendship,” she said finally.

“Possibly,” Mulder answered, failing to hide his enthusiasm. She was setting his heart on fire with the prospect. 

Their meals came and Mulder shouldn’t have been surprised when she ordered the hamburger, but it was a little humorous. Watching her lips close around the fork tines as she ate her side salad and watching the way the tip of her tongue peeked out to lick the corner of her mouth was not. He wanted to feel those lips, that tongue, gorging on him, and while they were, he would be busy, drenching his own tongue, his mouth, until it dripped with her honey. He closed his eyes and shook his head clear. If he was going to close this case he had to keep his mind focused. 

They finished their meals and as they got up Mulder said, “I have a hunch, your suspect, Derwood Spinks, is dead.” He tossed the tip on the table and Scully passed him a very unsatisfied look. Reluctantly, he added another single. 

“That tiny shark’s tooth embedded in the temporal bone solidified your theory from the start, didn’t it?” Scully asked as they got into the car.

“I think it’s his compulsion to kill, that he’s fulfilling his biological imperative. He chose to work in a burger joint, to have access to the meat, but it’s not enough.”

“Derwood Spinks is still the obvious choice, but you disagree,” Scully said, pulling the passenger visor down to shield her eyes from the sun. 

Mulder nodded his head and squinted out at the road as he pulled away from the curb and into traffic. “Yes, I disagree. I saw the look in Rob’s eyes, Scully. There’s something behind those eyes."

Mulder dropped Scully off at the sanitation company to investigate the padlock and dumpster pickup while he headed back to Rob Roberts’ apartment. Before leaving the sanitation parking lot, he rolled down his window, raising his voice over the engine and the wind. “I’ll meet you back here in half an hour,” he said to Scully.

She hesitated for a minute before looking at him directly. “Mulder, our conversation earlier, in the diner, I might not be completely opposed to it.” The gleam in her eye reached right in and captured his very soul, unnerving him with a blink. It took him a moment to gather himself before driving away. Her inference was unmistakable. Dana Katherine Scully just proposed having casual sex. Nothing else on the planet could have made him as hard as that thought made him. There he was, sitting in a dusty rental car with a hardon in the middle of the afternoon that could settle Cincinnati. He turned the air conditioning to full blast. It was going to be a very cold ride to Rob’s place.

Back in the motel after a long day, Mulder rotated the spigots on the tile wall, letting the steam fill the bathroom, fogging up the shower doors as he undressed. He stepped into the shower, the hot water washing his tensions down the drain. It felt good, and his cock was warming up to the conversation he had earlier with Scully. 

Thinking of them together in that way always caused a mixed bag of feelings. But if they were going to take that step, he’d start with making her know just how wanted she was. That lately, she alone made him hard. If they decided to go for it, when they did, he wanted her screaming his name so furiously, her nails would draw blood from his skin.

He soaped his body, working the suds carefully over each muscle and joint. His cocked waited eagerly, bobbing at attention, impatient for him to take it in his hands. 

As he ran his palms over his face, then chest, he wondered what it might be like to have Scully on her knees before him, her plump red lips slightly parted, her blue eyes gazing up at him waiting hungrily. The picture, so clear in his mind, he couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his hand around himself. 

Water cascaded over his head, flattening his dark hair and plastering it to his face. He closed his eyes and pumped, so badly he wanted her naked body wrapped around his. He’d eat her out till the water ran cold and she begged him to stop. 

The spray dripped over his lips and fell to his tongue as he pictured her taking him down her throat. His cock grew harder and harder as he kept pumping, Scully lips moving faster and faster along his shaft, pulling and sucking, running her tongue along the ridge of his crown. He released a low guttural cry and exploded, placing his hand against the dark motel tile as he caught his breath. 

His legs were slightly unsteady as he quickly washed the rest of his body. With a twist of his wrists the water turned off. Stepping out he wrapped a towel around his waist. Condensation covered the bathroom mirror, his hand squeaked as he wiped the moisture away. His own reflection appeared, residual water droplets clung to the glass making it look like tears he longed to shed. He wanted it to be Scully to make him come harder than he ever had before. He didn’t want to cry out his pleasure alone anymore. He wanted the images from moments ago to be memories; his chest hurt with want for it to be real. Imagination had nothing on the real thing - the sensations that danced along his skin whenever she touched it, the thump of his pulse at first sight after a night without her, the ache between his legs when her gaze lingered too long. 

Mulder gripped the edge of the sink, dizzy. The vision in his right eye blurred and he had a sudden ringing in his right ear like a gun had fired against it. Something wasn’t right. 

Scully had signed off on his medical paperwork that he had made a complete recovery so he could return to work as full active duty even though she knew otherwise. She did it with the promise that he would make an appointment with the neurological specialist in Baltimore touted as the best in the country. The initial doctors had told him the EEG had shown he had not quite returned to normal, but did not see any long standing tissue damage. Enough time had passed and the symptoms prevailed. With Scully’s prodding, he made the trip to see the specialist. 

**John Hopkins Hospital, Baltimore, Maryland**

“Mr. Mulder, I’m afraid at this time your condition is undiagnosable.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning we do not have a name for your condition. The closest that match the results of your EEG and other tests would be exposure to a lightning strike or shock from an electrical current.”

“Can it be treated?”

“We will do more testing and monitor your condition, give you drugs to help stave off your symptoms, but depending on the extent of the damage to the tissue and any neuropsychological changes, your condition may continue to deteriorate.”

Mulder’s gut tightened as though crows had started to build a nest inside it. Scully. How did he tell her he could be leaving her to fight in this world all alone? 

“I don’t feel like I’m dying, Doc. I actually feel really good, happy, with the exception of an episode here and there of what I described to you I wouldn’t even know anything was wrong,” he said, solemnly. Did it even matter if he was? He had no family left. The only preparation needed was to carve the date of his death into some marble.

“And it may be too early to tell the long term ramifications,” the doctor replied. As if reading Mulder’s thoughts he added, “There are new discoveries and treatments always on the horizon for any illness. I wouldn’t give up hope just yet, Mr. Mulder.”

On the long ride home, denial hit him first. Then hatred. Hatred for a man that dared to consider himself his father. For his life finally beginning and abruptly ending at the dawning realization that this was his chosen path. Depression, drawn from the life he would never lead with Scully. One he never saw through. 

The office walls shrunk as he entered through its darkened door. His anxiety overcoming logic, leading to avoidance. Surely if she knew, she would spend every last moment he breathed not giving up, trying to find a cure. Did he involve her yet again in one of his fruitless journeys? Or was the doctor right? Maybe there was a way to keep it from progressing… there had to be a way..

Keeping the information about his disease was only a consideration until he recalled their heated exchange on a hospital entrance ramp while she had been dying of cancer:

_“Why can’t you be honest with me?” he had asked her, agonizing inside that she would hide the truth from him._

_“What do you want me to say? That you’re right? That I believe it even if I don’t? I mean, is that what you want?”_

_“Is that what you think I want to hear?”_

_“No.”_

_“You can believe what you want to believe, Scully, but you can’t hide the truth from me because if you do, then you’re working against me, and yourself. I know what you’re afraid of, I’m afraid of the same thing.”_

_“The doctor said I was fine.”_

_“I hope that’s the truth.”_

He decided he needed to tell her. Remembering how it felt to be on the other end of that conversation hit home. Distorting her reality was not his intention and she was going to find out whether he said something or not. At least it might provide her with an opportunity for a closure he never had with the deaths of people so close to him. 

He looked for her everywhere that day with his own words, the vows he spoke in his hallway, echoing through his diseased brain: “ _You.. were my friend, and_ _you told me the truth_. Even when the world was falling apart, you were my constant… my touchstone” **_You told me the_** **_truth_** _._ To not tell her was to rescind the words he held sacred, blind her to their shared reality, and he was becoming frantic when the elevator door dinged open, and like magic she appeared.

“There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said.

“Hi. I’m sorry I had a doctor’s appointment and.. Um.. I guess time just got away from me.”

“Is anything the matter?” he asked, taking heed in her expressions, thinking possibly she had her own illnesses to contend with.

“Nothing. No, I just, uh.. I went for a walk.”

“Then what’s wrong?” What was she hiding? It made him nervous to think something might be wrong with her health as well. How could he have been so selfish to ignore it?

“I’m sorry.. I’m sorry I haven’t told you. I don’t know why I haven’t. I mean, you were… you were always there for me during my illness, but um…”

“Don’t make me guess.” He couldn’t take it anymore. He had been looking for her to tell her something that would take all his strength to do and to wait to find out she could be stricken as well. Hiding truths from him as he hid them from her. Finally, she told him:

“I was left unable to conceive with whatever tests that they did on me. And I am… not ready to accept that I will never have children.”

The ding of the elevator having reached its floor came at an inopportune time. His stomach filled with lead, he stepped out, but he knew he must tell her the truth before another moment passed. Only this truth was not about himself. “Scully, there’s, um, there’s something I haven’t told you either, and I hope you forgive me and understand why, I would have kept it from you.” 

“What?”

“During my investigation into your illness, I found out the reason why you were left barren. Your ova were taken from you and stored in a government lab.”

“What? You found them?”

“I took them directly to a specialist who would tell me if they were okay. Scully you were deathly ill, and I.. I couldn’t bear to give you another piece of bad news.” 

“Is that what it was? It was bad news?”

The razor blades in his stomach threatened to rise to his heart. “Well, the doctor said that the ova weren’t viable.” Thinking back now, the decision to pay to keep the ova frozen, ignoring the doctor’s protest that he had been paying for nothing, had been the correct decision. Back then and now, he could never give up on her. 

“I want a second opinion,” she replied indignantly.

He held the elevator door, preventing it from closing, searching her face for a sign that she could possibly forgive him for keeping a truth from her, her truth, but with a raise of her eyebrows, he knew the conversation was over for now and let go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ch. 3 is going to get steamy and I'll have it ready on Sunday. Probably post it about 1PM. See you there!


	3. When Mulder Kissed Scully

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is around the episode "Millennium" and their first kiss. 
> 
> This is a long chapter, but hopefully worth it. Scully and I got carried away at Mulder's expense. The poor man has his arm in a sling, so it was only fitting she lend him a hand. Rewatching season 7, I'm reminded how much punishment Mulder receives. He gets hurt in almost every episode. 
> 
> As with most of my fics, this one is based in real science.

Six weeks later Mulder was back at the doctor’s receiving a grim prognosis. The scar tissue had spread, but he seldom had symptoms. In fact, he felt really good. However, as the days passed, his self deprecating torment continued. The secrecy, the distortion of reality he created and justified ate away at him. Failing to convince himself over and again that it was best for her not to be involved in his struggle when she had so much of her own. He would wait until she returned from her doctor and got her results before divulging his sickness.

Late into the night, a knock came at his door. Scully was there looking quite disheveled in jeans and a trenchcoat, wringing her hands, avoiding his eyes. 

She had a request. His sperm for a chance at a miracle. 

“Is everything ok?” he asked, not prepared to deal with more bad news.

“Yeah," she replied as she stepped into the apartment. He closed the door behind her as she spoke. “I went to the doctor today.”

There went the crows pecking at his stomach again. “What did he say?”

“Well, he said there is a chance if I go through the IVF procedure and start soon. It’s still a long shot, but there’s hope.”

“That’s great news,” he said, but he still had his reservations. “So the ova are viable?”

“Yes,” she said, but her eyes darted around the room and the lines in her face deepened.

“What is it?” he asked, softly. 

Scully walked past him and sat on the couch, kneading her hands, staring up at him like she was going to tell him she lost her best friend. He was still alive, so, what was it? Then his stomach sank like the titanic. Did she know? Had the specialist forwarded his medical records to her, his primary physician, even though he had requested it not to be done? His pulse quickened as he sat down next to her, the crunching of the couch’s leather accentuating the uncomfortable silence.

"There’s something I have to ask you,” she started.

In low tones he replied, “Scully, anything. What is it?”

Scully ran her splayed hands along her thighs. “Mulder, this process is lengthy. I have a chance to go through several cycles of it. It’s emotional, arduous, and it may be heartbreaking, the hormone therapy and all, it may be up to a year before I get results, if any...”

“Scully..” 

Scully stared at the television that wasn’t on, running her tongue across her top lip. She took a couple long deep breaths and directed her desperate gaze his way. He found himself holding his breath in preparation of her next words. “Dr. Parenti asked me what I want to do for a donor.. There was only one possibility that came to mind..."

She paused and looked... frightened? They were so far along in their partnership, yet at times they still struggled to speak their mind when the emotions ran deep. His heart felt heavy. Who was this guy and why was it so hard for her to tell him? Was it Skinner?

She inhaled deeply. "Mulder, you are my best friend. Besides my mother, I am closer to you than anyone in my life. When I think of a child and the characteristics I would want them to possess- the intelligence, the heart, the ethical conscience... Mulder.. I think of you... and well.. for a myriad of other reasons... I would like you to be the donor.”

There was a long period of silence and neither of them moved. His mouth felt like he had sucked into it an entire field of cotton. 

“I would not demand or expect anything else from you.” She paused, then concluded, “I’ll give you the time you need to think it over.” Slowly she raised herself from the couch and walked over to the door. Mulder listened to her heels click across the hardwood, the tiny squeak of the knob as she turned it and finally the kachunk sound as the door closed behind her.

Mulder gathered his pillow underneath his head and lay motionless on the couch, staring up at the ceiling fan for almost an hour after Scully had left. His mind was reeling and he could have been knocked over by a feather. After all she had been through for him. After all she had lost for his cause. He would do anything for her. What about him? What did this mean for him? Did he want a child? She said he would have no obligations and he knew her intent was to raise this child herself, but he couldn't imagine himself not wanting to be in this child's life. What would it mean for them? For their friendship? Nothing could tear a relationship apart like children and their relationship wasn't normal by any means. Out of everyone in the world, she picked him. It meant so much. She wanted her child to share his DNA with hers. It was all so emotional he wanted to cry. Was he ready for that kind of commitment? For reasons he didn't want to question, it made sense. He did want that commitment and he wanted it with Scully. Maybe this wasn't what he had ever planned, but he wanted to share this with her and he didn't want her to share it with anybody else. Besides, the child would need strong parents and… and… 

Mulder found himself suddenly drenched in sweat, fear crawling up his spine. Not because he didn’t want to have the baby, but because he might never be alive to even meet his child. What he had left weren’t dreams, but extrapolations of outcomes. He would miss her pregnancy, the late night cravings, the swollen ankles, feeling the baby kick for the first time. There would be no chance to share in their miracle, no passing of traditions or teaching them to play baseball, ride a bike, build a spaceship. No birthday parties, reading stories, secret jokes, mending their wounds or drying their tears. The only thing they would get to share was DNA and all they would know of their father was Scully’s stories of him. Tears came steadily as he envisioned the future. He couldn’t deny her a chance for a child and if it was his DNA she wanted, he wouldn’t deny her that either. Maybe this was his chance too. A chance to live on. The strands of DNA she could carry might be ones for salvation. His head laid heavy in his hands as droplets of tears seeped through the cracks and onto his shoes. His life ending and beginning simultaneously. Would he be leaving Scully when she needed him most?

**The Following Day…**

Mulder waited on hold for the doctor, pacing back and forth across his floor, concentrating on the thump of his basketball as he dribbled, controlling the tempo of its steady beat. Finally the neuro doctor came on the line to field his question.

“The answer is yes, Mr. Mulder, it is absolutely safe for you to be a donor. Your condition will not affect the process or the baby in any way. We have found nothing to indicate that the disease is hereditary. Your medications will not affect anything either. There is absolutely nothing to worry about, but it could actually be used to help you.”

“In what way?” Mulder asked.

“There have been tests conducted in a lab environment at the university in Egypt by my colleagues where they successfully programmed embryonic stem cells to repair the brain. The type of cells they used can only come from five day old blastocysts before three germ layers have been formed. The only way to do that is by using an IVF procedure and they would take those cells before implanting in the womb.”

“Couldn’t that be dangerous to the development of the child?”

“There are risks, but it could very well save your life. More than likely, if there are complications, a different ovum would implant to go on to have a healthy pregnancy.” 

“I don’t know that we have that many viable to spare,” Mulder replied.

“Well, there is another option. If we could slow down the progression of your illness, we could use stem cells from the placenta and embryonic fluid when the baby is born.”

Mulder thanked the doctor for the information and hung up the phone. It was too large a risk to take and this was Scully’s only chance. Mulder knew that she couldn’t have that many, if at all, that were healthy and would be able to be successfully fertilized. If she knew of his condition, she’d discover there was a chance to save him and she might sacrifice motherhood in the process. He did not want her to make that kind of a choice. If he had to sacrifice himself for his unborn child, he would. Once again, his decision to tell her would have to wait.

**One week later in Scully’s apartment…**

“Obviously, you’ve had some time to think about my request,” Scully said, and he felt her eyes searching his own.

“It’s um… It’s not something I get asked to do every day. Um, but I’m absolutely flattered. No honestly.” Mulder heard himself speaking as if he was outside of his own body. It wasn't coming out right at all. He saw Scully close her eyes to take a blow from his words and nod, cutting him off. “Look if… if you’re looking for a way to politely say “no” It’s okay. I…I understand.”

Mulder shook his head, he wasn't communicating. She needed to know their friendship meant everything to him. Beyond all else. As long as they had that, he would do anything for her. He nodded nervously with a hint of a smile forming as the vision of their child formed in his head- a vision of her happiness. “See, as weird as it sounds and this sounds really weird I know, but I.. I just wouldn’t want this to come between us.”

“Yeah. I know. I…I understand. I do.” She was shaking and nodding her head and the disappointment made his heart grow because it showed how much it really meant to her; for him to be the one. He knew right then, the decision was the right one. He just needed one more miracle - to find a cure and live for her and that baby that would soon be growing inside her. There had to be a way.

“the- the answer is… yes.” As he said it, he watched as she ran through each expression and he felt every emotion of hers in his own heart. This was what she wanted, what was needed. Everything else would remain in the background.

**December, 1999**

“Fox, what brings you here?” Teena asked as she opened the door to find her son at the other end.

“It’s the holidays mom. I thought I would take you out for dinner,” Mulder returned, stepping inside. He looked around the house to see everything in order as usual, neat and tidy, frozen in time.

“Fox, you know we don’t celebrate the holidays anymore.”

Mulder agreed, giving her a welcomed hug. “Then how about I take you out because we both need to eat?” he offered.

“Oh, all right,” she said, turning to look in the foyer mirror and fluffing her peppered gray hair. 

Mulder helped her on with her coat and their eyes met. “You look nice mom,” he said as he fixed her collar. “Where do you feel like eating? You want seafood? Italian?”

In memory of his father, they decided on upholding a Jewish Christmas tradition and ate at his mother’s favorite Chinese restaurant. 

“How you feeling?” Mulder asked as the server set out full plates of food for them to share.

“Good Fox, I’m fine,” she returned, passing him the bowl of fried rice. He could hear the faint smile in her voice even though her expression was even, “How are you doing?”

_Not okay. Uncertain at every turn. Oh, and I may be dying at the hand of your former lover._

The thought brought bile up from the back of his throat and he hastily swallowed it back down. “I’m doing okay, Mom.”

She used her chopsticks to dunk her dim sum in some plum sauce and said, “Honey, Beatrice and Fiona asked about you. Remember them from my sewing club? I had to invent something to say because I didn’t want to tell them you hardly come around. I wish you would at least call when you get busy like that.”

Mulder rolled his tongue in his cheek and nodded. 

“How’s work?” she prodded.

“Work’s fine. Scully...” He took a sharp breath. He didn’t know why he said her name. It was almost like he wanted his mother to ask him about her. If he was being honest with himself the truth was he did want to talk about her. Tell his mom how she went to the ends of the Earth for him, reached into unknown realms to pull him from oblivion, saved him from the clutches of monsters.

“How is Dana?”

 _Great mom, you know, the normal stuff, like translating markings off alien ships and trying to have my baby_. 

Mulder cleared his throat. “She’s good, mom.”

“That’s good. Lovely girl.”

_Would his mother want to be a grandparent? Would it help deal with the loss to have something to live for? Losing his sister, and now if she was to lose him, how could any mother survive that?_

Mulder swallowed. Hard. “So, Mom, the first time Dad asked you out on a date, how did he do it?” 

His mom paused. He could see her trying to read his mind. “Fox, that was such a long time ago, you know my memory isn’t as good as it used to be.” She took a drink of her oolong tea and focused on something far away. Deep within her. After several minutes, she spoke. “I remember him calling up my father, your grandfather, as you know he also worked for the government, in the department of defense, and he asked his permission. My father said it would be all right as long as we ate in the mess hall, which one of them on the base was quite fancy. I remember your father brought me a flower.” She laughed at the memory. “Placed it in the water glass and told me he stole it off a cemetery plot on the way to my house.” 

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze to accompany his wide eyed grin. “That’s a great story, mom.”

She touched his cheek. “What brought this on, Fox? Is there someone special you want to ask on a date?”

Mulder chuckled bashfully. “Mom.”

“Well I’m happy for you. You deserve excitement and happiness in your life. I’m sure Dana would love to go out with you.”

“Mom, Agent Scully and I are just friends…”

“Honey, you work so hard and you’re a good son. Let yourself have some fun; it’s long overdue.”

He let out a slow breath, feeling a slight thickening in his throat. He didn’t feel like he deserved anything, but out of the blue, he wanted it. He wanted to let go of all his guilt. For Samantha, for his choices that led him to the condition he was in, for Scully… he just didn’t know if he could. Carrying it had become second nature. It became his why and how that fueled his search. Who was he if not the X-Files? What did he do if he wasn’t punishing himself for his sins, for his work? Would the heavens really allow him to just let go and be free? 

He motioned for the check and a couple doggy bags, then turned to his mom. “I’m thinking we complete the tradition and spend the day at the movie theater.” His mother started to shake her head so he added, “one price for the day, watch as many movies as you want until your ass goes numb.” That brought a chuckle out of her and he could see in her eyes she was considering it. “Come on. It’s on me. I’ll even splurge for drinks and popcorn.” 

**31 December 1999**

Dick Clark began the countdown to the Millennium as Mulder stood next to Scully with his arm in a sling. Defeating zombies and saving the world. It was all part of a day’s work for him and his partner. This coming year he was going to start it off right. Not hold back anymore. He wanted to give them a little bit of normal. They were still alive. Time was fleeting and they didn't know what the next day would bring, but there was still promise of a tomorrow. One for Frank Black as well, now reunited with his daughter. With everything Scully and he had been through, it gave him a feeling of satisfaction and warmth to be part of making that happen.

He was getting a chance to live everyday like it would be his last and his first. He might be a little battered and bruised with his arm in the sling the hospital had provided, but it felt right to be standing here next to her watching the ball drop, silently counting down those last 10 seconds. 

In his peripheral vision her head was tilted back, elongating the silky column of her neck. One day he had hoped to sufficiently explore the skin there. Dick Clark, along with the rest of times square and most likely the entire time zone, let out a loud, Happy New Year! And just like that, it was the year 2000. Auld Lang Syne played on the TV speaker while streamers drifted and confetti fell like colorful snowflakes. The camera zoomed in on a couple kissing and Mulder darted his eyes to the left, Scully watched seemingly enraptured, with a small smile creeping at the corner of her mouth.

The moment had moved him and he wanted to share it with her. Would she stop him? He turned and slowly dipped his head, their eyes met and casually his lips joined hers. Lightly, gently, he explored the purse of her lips, a soft kiss to introduce the new year. A first kiss. It was nothing that he thought it would be. No fireworks, but no awkward noses brushing, their lips matching up perfectly. Sweetly. Maybe there were a few bottle rockets in his heart. Pulling away, he felt suddenly shy like he had exposed too much. She tilted her head and he couldn’t quite read her reaction, but as their kiss transformed into a smile it warmed his insides. 

“The world didn’t end.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“Happy New Year, Scully.”

“Happy New Year, Mulder.”

He put his good arm around her as she leaned into him and they headed out the door into the night.

***

Mulder had never felt this selfish or this close to coming undone in all his life. That innocent kiss had ignited a flame that could have melted the sun. His meds had started to wear, the pain in his arm quite sharp. Scully had left his hospital room long enough for him to verify that the pain meds would not interfere with his brain meds. Fear trickled down his back when he thought that he had left his other prescriptions frivolously on the counter. Luckily, she headed for the bathroom when they arrived and he darted into the kitchen, ripping the label off and destroying it while hiding the bottle in the back of his highest shelf. She returned with his painkillers and her shirt buttoned down for him to see enough cleavage to need to nonchalantly adjust the bulge forming underneath his pants. 

“I can help you with your shirt,” Scully offered and he raised his brow for the sake of humor.

“Or you could sleep with it on,” she tossed back. 

He squeezed his eyes shut as she lifted his shirt from his back. His arm ached as if it was cracking. “Does your head hurt?” she asked in response, her fingertips brushing his forehead near the hairline and he shook it slowly, wetting his lips, and swallowing hard. Everything tonight was taking on new meaning. He could feel every contact her body made with his. She shifted again to complete her inspection, her voice low and soft, “they did a good job. It should heal nicely.”

Scully opened the tube of salve to apply it to her own scrapes. “I’m not a doctor, but I think I could handle that if you let me,” Mulder offered.

The space between them seemed infinitely smaller than usual. Scully sat down on the couch next to him and he couldn’t even breathe properly. Carefully he applied the cloudy soft gel to her tender satin skin. For too many minutes he considered touching the soft strands of her rose colored hair. Watching as her shoulders rose and fell; he closed his eyes and took in her vanilla scent. It allowed his mind to drift to that moment she hugged him so tight, elated that he agreed to be her baby’s bio dad. With his eyes remaining closed he also felt slightly dizzy and a heaviness in the forehead region. Shit. His meds were taking over. 

When his eyes opened he could see his happiness mirrored on her face. It made his whole body lighter, or maybe that was the meds, but it gathered enough in him to say, “Next year at this time, there could be a little you and me running around.” 

Her blue diamonds glistened in light of his statement. “Could be.” Her voice cracked on the words, and Mulder felt something tighten at the base of his throat. That was when he noticed her fingers trembling, like she was terror-stricken. He reached out and wrapped her hand around his. Scully froze, her expression carefully blank. 

His stomach did a slow roll as he looked down at her. “What’s the matter?”

She frowned. “Nothing.”

“Yes it is. You’re shaking.”

She held his gaze and squeezed his hand. Her lashes wet with fear, her lips close enough to almost brush against. “It’s such a long shot, Mulder.”

“But I believe in you, Scully. There’s always room for a miracle and that’s why we can’t give up.” There was a duality in his words, but she would only understand the singular meaning. Her eyes turned molten, and her gaze dropped to lick him up and down. He could see it in her eyes what was coming, he didn’t know if it was the pain meds, his brain meds, or the injuries, but he didn’t have the strength to stop her. The hot lightning he felt the first time their lips touched returned as she pressed hers to his again. 

Pure white heat sharply burned in all the right places. His jaw matched hers as it flexed and pushed harder against her mouth, his tongue needily slipping inside as his hand cupped her face, bringing his legs underneath him to face her. Their kisses deepened, slick and hungry, Scully’s gravity pulling him up on his knees to get closer, to have more of her. They rose, never breaking their kiss, any pain in his arm quickly slipped away with the mix of dopamine, adrenaline, and lust. There was no question that his heart was beating quicker than logic considering they hadn’t left the couch. Then his body twitched and his eyes snapped open.

Scully pulled back. “Mulder, are you all right? Why are you breathing so… hard?” Her words fell away as her eyes dropped to his waist. He lowered his own sightline to see the head of his cock peeking out the top of his waistband. 

When Mulder’s gaze landed on Scully, his features twisted into a grimace. “Scully.. I.. I’m sorry… I didn’t mean… that’s not what I want..” 

Instinctively she ran her fingers through the hair at his temple, tracing her way to the back of his head. She twisted her wrist a bit and started to kneed his neck. Mulder released a low groan, his body tensing against her own. His panting breaths tickled the exposed part of her chest. It wasn’t soothing like her intention, instead it made her needy, warmth spreading deep in her belly. Their feelings had deepened and nuanced since her bout with cancer, and everything that occurred these past few months, and now, sitting here with him, felt like the eye of a tornado.

Images flashed behind her eyes of his barely contained velvet monster, but instead of it tucked in his pants, it was deep inside her, blazing a trail of sparks and light. Her, being so full from him, everywhere, friction reaching her core, growing wetter around him as he stretched her to madness. Scully rubbed at the tense spots on his neck, increasing her force with each thought, their breaths coming fast and dire. Years of suppressed fantasies rushing in, aching her center. Mulder’s body stiffened once more against her. She could hear his breath catch. “Scully..”

Her fingers played through his hair, then stroked gently down to the nape of his neck. He moaned like he couldn’t hold it in any longer. Mulder’s hand reached up to fold around hers drawing both their hands to his chest. She could feel his heart pounding. 

He leaned in and repeated, “Scully…” For a moment, he suspended his breath against her ear, the scruff of his face against her cheek. Then it was her turn to shudder, her legs shifting against his, as he rasped out, “Please, stop.”

“Mulder, what is it?” She could feel her throat tight and her lids heavy.

His forehead touched her own and he moaned, “It’s too good.” 

Scully’s sightline lowered and Mulder drew his rigid slender frame away from her, exposing the outline of the long thick rod straining against his pants. The shaft, so big it was bent towards the left in its confinement. Mulder reached down melding his hand around it, trying to shield it from her sight. Her gaze swept up towards his face, but out of the corner of her eye she saw the dark bared tip trapped between his waistband and his chiseled belly. Dear God, it was big. Desire coursed through her, clenching the center region of her hips. She blinked up at him. 

Mulder’s unslung hand was now spread over his abs, only partly able to hide his sex from her eyes. It was so long and thick, even his huge hand couldn’t shield all of it.

He shook his head, his face a ripe tomato red. His jaw tightened as he shook again and closed his eyes. “Scully, you should go,” he said, his voice breathless. 

Scully’s heart was hammering as if it might give out. It was surreal, being in this moment, with Mulder, on his couch. Her hand came up to touch his rough cheek. “I don’t want you to be embarrassed. And going home is not what I want to do right now.” Scully could hardly breathe as she spoke those words, her cheeks burning white hot, almost in tears, the words exposing so much of her desires it sent shockwaves through her. 

Time froze around them as his breath grew faster, heavier. Mulder’s jaw tightened and his features tensed. He leaned in close enough for his chest to brush hers. “Then, I want you to touch me, Scully.”

His hand fell away, but Scully was too fear stricken to not leave his eyes. With their lips barely a breath apart, her hands blindly fumbled with the top button of his pants and carefully drew down his zipper. Mulder moaned and closed his eyes, his mouth parting and eyelids falling heavy, fluttering against her cheek; his sling leaning into her abdomen as Scully reached inside and ran her fingertips around his cock. It felt painfully engorged as her hand danced along the thick curves, up and down from tip to base, long solid strokes, not leaving his eyes, her pulse now between her legs, pounding harder than it ever had before. Scully whimpered, feeling his pleasure in her own core, the noise slipping accidentally from her lips. Her fingers twisted over the tip, tugging upwards and Mulder pulled his pants and boxers farther down, until they gathered against the couch cushion at his knees. 

Scully couldn’t look away. Her own knees trembled. She slowed her pace, squeezing the crown. Mulder gasped and moaned, his eyes focused on hers. She paused and he exhaled, she could feel him swelling at her grip. “Scully, we should stop. Knowing you would want to is enough.”

Her eyes fell, Scully needed to give herself a minute to take heed to his words, but was met with his cock, pointing proudly up at her. It was so.. thick and... long. So perfect. Heat zinged through her at a fever pitch. So high she broke out in a sweat. “But it’s not enough for _me_.”

The look on his face almost made her die from desire. “No?”

“No,” she answered him in a thick low whisper, kissing him gently.

Scully’s hand glided down towards the base and then back up as they kissed, spreading her fingers, rubbing over him with the shaft between her thumb and forefinger until she reached the tip again, tracing the rim. His hips jerked forward and he moaned. 

They deepened their kiss in desperation, his good hand stroking gently up and down her arm as she continued pumping his stiff marble length. This time when she reached the base she held it with one hand and used the other to lightly caress and tug the swollen sac below. It drew up with her light touch, turning the area between her own legs into a yawning ache. The reaction made two of her fingers reach beneath to tickle the area behind it.

“Oh shiiit,” Mulder cried out in a raspy breath, squeezing her arm hard enough to leave a bruise. He pulled her into him in a hug, his body an oven against her. 

“Is this really happening?” he breathed into her neck.

“Yes,” Scully confirmed in a whimper.

“I’m not hallucinating from the medication?”

“You’re not,” she confirmed, giving him small kisses along his cheek and then she whispered in his ear, “Tell me how you like it.” 

The request pulsed through him and he throbbed harder against her palm. This was Scully and the reality of that was turning him on more than anything. He swallowed down the scream of joy caught in his throat and choked out, “harder..”; she firmed up her grip. The pleasure tightened his groin, ran up his spine, and lit up the tip of his skull like a solar flare. It had never felt this good and it was only her hand. “Jesus, Scully.” Need inside him grew and he grunted, “ Faster,” The sensations swelled and built. “Scully, that feels so good.” He was gulping breaths when he begged her “faster,” still, gripping at her hair with his good hand, the heat of her body on his, the sound of her whimpers reaching his ears, the smell of her hair, skin, arousal. He continued his chants of “Scully,” “Oh _God_ , _Scuuhlly_ ,” and held on for dear life, caught on this roller coaster, hugging her tighter. 

She stroked so quick and so hard she was afraid she was hurting him, his cock feeling like steel coated in satin. The passionate pull of his hand in her hair, the quick pain, made her want to spear herself on him. The throbbing inside her was steady now, an almost unbearable pleasure. Her hands began to shake, the sensations inside her building, her movements matching the tenacity.

Mulder groaned. “If- Scully, if..” Her hand stilled, but his hips rocked into her, urging her to move again. His hand pressed her lower back, drawing her ever closer, “If you don’t stop Scully, if you don’t stop soon.. I’m-going -to-come.”

The warning left her undeterred, instead she felt eager, frenzied, with an overwhelming urge to watch him come undone. She pulled away enough to look into his eyes as she ran her hand up and down his enlarged cock, teasing, languid, gripping the tip, rubbing her thumb over the tiny slit, with her other hand cupping his balls.

“Scully, please, I’m gonna come,” he warned again.

She loved this. She loved having this much control over his pleasure, giving him this much feeling. His life had been so much heartache she needed to add to the happiness. Mulder’s fingers were trembling over her neck, his thumb at her jaw line, dragging air into his lungs, and groaning outward. Scully rubbed her palm around, over the wetness now covering his tip, picking up speed. He clutched her neck. “Scully, I’m really close.”

Again she quickened her stroke, somehow impossibly she felt him swell further. Mulder started to writhe and claw at her back. She closed one hand around his sac and pumped the other up his length. When her closed fist brushed the notch at the rim of his glistening crown, he jerked. “Scully, I’m coming, oh God I’m coming, fuck, Scully, it’s so much.”

Scully’s head spun as she felt his sac harden against her palm and watched his thick cream spurting between her fingers, dripping down his taut swollen cock.

Mulder panted, his face slackened, he tilted his head back and unable to resist, she pressed her tongue to the throbbing tendon and sucked at the pulse thrumming inside his throat. 

In his eyes she saw his desires melt away, but between her own legs, a heaviness built. Mulder reached for the hand towel on the coffee table, running it over his soaked length. The sight of him touching himself, feeling the aftershocks of the orgasm she gave him, made Scully throb. Tightly her thighs pressed together.

“You okay?” he asked as he finished. His eyes were dilated and he looked like the meds were getting the best of him, like he might drift off at any moment.

She laughed out of pure self consciousness, “Yeah. You okay?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’m really really okay,” he said shyly.

She paused for a moment. “Would you mind if I used the bathroom?”

Mulder gave her a peculiar look. “Yeah, let me just run in real quick.”

What was less than a minute felt like eternity. He came out refreshed, wearing simple pajama bottoms. Scully raced in, the throbbing failing to cease, her body begging relief. Quickly she closed and locked the bathroom door, gripping the white porcelain of the sink while her quaking fingers slipped down beneath her underwear, over her scarce coarse auburn curls. 

The urge bubbled beyond control. She glided her fingers over her sex, slick and swollen like she had never been before. When her finger nudged between the slit between her lips she had to bite her cheek to keep from moaning and Mulder from hearing. 

The entire time she pictured Mulder, sliding in and out of her with his huge cock and his tormented eyes. Scully worked her fingers in circles, harder and faster, her pants so loud they echoed against the tile. She was surprised at how wet she was as she pushed her fingertip inside. She cried out and fear shot threw her that Mulder might hear, but she couldn’t stop. 

The throbbing increased and her whole body ached with the need to feel him. In her fantasy he was lying flat on his back, his large and long erection jutting up. She would grab it as she straddled him and push the thick tip into her swollen flesh, filling her completely to the point of sinful madness. His taut jaw, parted lips, soulful eyes. The smile that filled her heart, his rough cheek brushing hers, whispering his desires into her ear. 

Scully’s fingers blanched as she squeezed tighter against the cold sink, trying her best to silence her moans as she came, then quickly dipping her hand into the stream of water beneath the faucet to wash away the evidence. 

When she returned to the living room, Mulder had been overcome by sleep, breathing heavily, but peacefully. She helped him lay down on his pillow, and he followed her goading without waking. She covered him with the throw and left him a glass of water, kissing his forehead before deciding to return to her apartment.


	4. In the Moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scully is moving forward with the IVF. Knowing the cure for his brain disease could come at a risk for Scully's pregnancy and not wanting Scully to have to make that kind of choice, Mulder decides not to tell Scully, choosing Scully's chance at motherhood and the baby's life over his own. Amidst all this, they have allowed their romantic feelings for each other to creep through. Now they have to learn to deal with those feelings. Or in their case, how not to.
> 
> We are in the middle of the episode "Rush". This episode is so happy and flirty and full of chemistry and I think they solved a case. Maybe?

[Jan 4, 2000]

The number one illuminated. Scully tapped her foot impatiently, butterflies swarming in her stomach. The first time seeing him since NYE. She didn’t even blame Mulder. He was heavily medicated with pain killers and caught up in the moment. If anything, she took advantage of him.

The question was, how they would react to each other now in a work setting and did he expect more or could they just let it lie at one night? All this and she was late for work, sleeping through the alarm. Not to mention it seemed to take forever this morning to pick out something to wear. Then the taxi ride from the airport was almost a crawl. The only advantage was the ample time she had to read through the police report Mulder had faxed her from St. Jude Hospital in Pittsfield. She wasn’t exactly sure why she was on edge, but she wanted to get the initial meeting over with. Hopefully, he was alone. The elevator doors opened. She smiled to herself. Here we go.

He couldn’t wait to see her and couldn’t wait to dive into this case. At the same time, his stomach knotted- How were they going to handle this? Did they pretend it didn’t happen? What if she wanted more? Now that she got a taste, how could she stop? Impatiently, he began to dial his phone when he felt a tap on his left shoulder and turned around. His smile grew wide. She looked stunningly radiant. Her lips appeared darker, eyes brighter, hair shining as it bounced delicately against her jaw. His eyes followed her neckline and he noticed it. She was wearing a white button down shirt that was hugging her body and displayed enough cleavage to get his attention. This was definitely not her normal attire and it was sending him the message that she had taken some pleasure out of their encounter. Maybe even suggesting another. Down boy, he thought to himself as he blinked twice and flipped the track in his head to side B where a dead body was lying with his eyeglasses falling out of the back of his head.

“Uh…” he chuckled. “There you are. Heavy traffic?”

“Slow going,” she answered. “Let’s just say I had ample time to read the police report that you faxed me.”

“Thoughtfully provided by the local authorities, even though it doesn’t begin to tell the whole story.” They were going with avoidance. He could totally deal with that; if only she’d button that button. 

When she bent over to examine the back of the deceased Deputy Foster’s head, Mulder couldn’t help but wonder where he registered on the perversion scale for checking out her ass. Yeah, this would be a long day.

They walked down the corridor of the Pittsfield Sheriff’s station where Jesse, the suspect’s friend, flirtatiously bumped Mulder to get his attention. Scully was accustomed to women using Mulder as eye candy, but she’d be damned if he was going to look back. She pinched his elbow hard to remind him that the tag on his collar said property of Dana Katherine Scully. He laughed nervously, “What?” as he felt the sting of her whip. They walked into the interrogation room and Mulder regretted sitting down as he was now at perfect eye level to notice Scully’s button screaming at him to free its restraints with his teeth. He dug his nails into his leg to keep himself from moving his head.

Meanwhile, Scully was carrying the investigation, “..you say that Deputy Foster stopped you, but you don’t say why.”

Mulder refocused. “Come ‘on, you were out cruisin’….”

As they stepped back out into the hallway and began discussing the case, Scully felt her body leaning into his. That warm inviting tension that obliterated their personal space. His lips were pursed as he clamored on about spiritual entities and poltergeists. Something about it stimulated more than her mind. She decided to test the waters.

“Mulder…rather than spirits…” Scully tugged at the bottom of his tie, stroking it phallically, reminiscent of New Year’s, staring at it almost seductively. “Can we at least start with Tony’s friends?” And here came a little Marilyn Monroe, “Please? Just…for me?” Her eyes followed it up towards the knot envisioning him naked and her leading him by that same tie wrapped tightly around his throat. . . . “I think there’s one person in particular I’d like to talk to.”

Mulder’s pants tightened as his legs turned to jelly. _I am totally fucked_ he thought to himself. _I will never be able to say no to this woman again_ . _She could have anything she wanted, do whatever she wanted. Did she really just manipulate me with her feminine wiles? Why yes, she did and yes I wish she would do it again._ With the only movement he was capable of he whipped his head to the side and smirked following behind her. She'd had her way with him and it felt so good.

As they left the Sheriff’s station, Scully remarked, “I guess we’re done for the day.”

“Yeah, there’s not much we can do until we get the results from the lab and I want to see what Chuck’s opinion is before I reach any conclusions. The rental car is parked across the street.” He tried to keep his voice steady, but felt like he was failing miserably.

Why couldn’t he stop looking at her hands and picturing them doing what they had done to him - emptying and refilling him with life. And every now and then he kept seeing that look in her eyes. When she touched his tie earlier he almost came right out of his skin. Scully had walked into his office and became his miracle, the unexpected soulmate, and this new layer only created a more intricate mosaic to their beautifully fractured story. 

It was a quiet drive from the airport and Mulder kept inside his own head, reviewing the facts they had and postulating on others. Fleeting thoughts also stayed muddled in the back of his mind of Scully using toys on him, licking a whip cream bikini off his shaft and nipples. And then there was what he wanted to do to her. With her.

It wasn’t until he felt the warmth of Scully’s tiny digits play over his hand, both sensual and tender, that he was back in the present. He squeezed them as the heated shocks they emitted pierced into his chest. 

Mulder stared out the window at the darkening sky, “I’m thinking that blur on the VCR tape might be the spirit of a former student,” Mulder said. “Maybe a ghost coming back for some sort of revenge.”

“Or maybe… it was just a glitch on the tape,” added Scully pulling the car into a spot in front of his apartment.

Mulder sat back in the seat of the car, pressing his head into the headrest, knowing he should say something about New Year’s. They had been coming off of a high, solving a case, trying to have a baby... He couldn’t bear it if it ended up ruining their friendship, and he gathered his words to ask her if she was regretting the other night. 

When he looked over, Scully’s eyes were two blue flames. Cheeks a little flushed, with shallow breath, and the hills of her breasts were rising, begging his mouth to suck on them. That look was unmistakable. Softly, she leaned over and kissed him. Moving swiftly and lightly over his lips, carrying with it a steady undercurrent of electricity. His fingertips came up to caress her face, his mouth covering her, the heat, the tenderness, making him dizzy. Tasting and teasingly, her tongue swept into his mouth and his brain went completely blank. Pleasure and need drew him away from their kiss, down to her neck. 

The warm wet press of his lips along her nape, his teeth gently scraping her skin sent explosions of color behind Scully’s eyes. Something about today, residuals from the other night, perhaps all the hormone shots, but she couldn’t not touch him. Her hands were on the move as she sucked at his shoulder, sliding down his chest, tracing his taut abs, unbuttoning his fly and drawing down his zipper. She plunged her hand into the loosened waistband where she found him thick and hard, and she moaned hot breaths into Mulder’s neck when she wrapped her hand around it. 

If Mulder had only known how much she enjoyed fondling his cock, their whole history may have gone differently. Their mouths found each other again with greater intensity, his hand tangling in her hair, the other pushing her bra away and cupping the breast that had been teasing him all day. Against her lips he mumbled, “This is dangerous, Scully. Anyone could see us.” He gasped for breath which turned to a groan as she squeezed the crown of his cock before stroking back down his shaft. 

His mouth dipped from one tender peak to the other. Desperately he pulled at her pink tips, sucking them hard as her back arched offering him more. Overwhelmed and out of control he stroked the flat of his tongue over her nipple and his cock throbbed at the reaction of Scully’s head falling back on her shoulders. Sharp and jagged pleasure shot up his spine revealing every secret desire he ever had for her. 

Unable to get his fill, he left her breast to feast on her neck, making her tremble in his arms as his rough jaw stroked her silky flesh. Her hand felt unbelievably perfect as it pumped him, the other finding its way under his shirt and electrifying his chest. His mouth descended again into her valley freezing just over where her heart hammered. One of her hands was moving up and down his cock, but the other had trailed back, all the way back, slickly coated and teasing his puckered entrance. The emptied tube of vaseline lip balm lay in the cupholder.

Pleasure scorched through his veins as she pushed passed the barrier, trying his best not to pass out. He couldn’t catch his breath, didn’t dare move. The invasion had his thighs trembling as he fought to stay conscious. For that moment, he clutched her to him and mumbled every tender feeling and every dirty word he ever had for her. He felt his muscles tighten as her finger pressed firmly to his prostate, stroking it and his cock simultaneously. Sweat dotted his skin, the inside of the car felt like a rain forest. Desperate noises released from his throat and Scully moaned after him, dragging him over the cliff in a holler, shattering him against the waves until he was dissolved like water in her arms. 

She stroked his dampened hairline and he smiled shyly against her chest, embarrassed at how easily she made him feel and what a mess he always seemed to create. 

He nibbled up her neck. “I haven’t gotten a chance to touch you yet,” Mulder murmured where he had buried his face, sucking the area like a snake bite. His strong fingers trailed up and down her back in feather-light strokes as he waded in a mental fog of satisfaction. 

“It’s okay, Mulder.” 

The way she said it made him uneasy. He lifted his head to look into her eyes. She was relaxed, thoughtful, and still touching him in slow sweet strokes. 

“No regrets?” he asked delicately.

She paused so long an empty feeling began to grow in his gut. Then she pressed a kiss to his closed lips. “No regrets.” 

While Mulder gathered himself together, said goodnight and headed to his apartment, a tiny sadness buried deep inside rose into his chest. This wasn’t really a beginning, what they were doing wasn’t meant to go anywhere and the best thing to do was end it before it progressed. But first, there was something that had to be done for the sake of the friendship. 

The next day, in their basement office, Chuck sat at Mulder’s desk and proved to the two of them that both their theories were wrong. When he left, Mulder closed the door.

“You want to talk,” Scully said as she folded her arms.

“You’ve traded in your buttons for a high rise,” Mulder returned, observing her black turtleneck covering everything the white button-down was revealing the previous day. 

Scully walked between Mulder and the door, pressing her manicured fingertips together. “Should I expect daily observations on my attire?”

Mulder lifted his finger as if he had something to say, but Scully took control walking him backwards until he was leaning against the desk, then sitting on it. “If you must know, the turtleneck is hiding evidence.” Her finger hooked the top of the sweater to reveal a large bright red mark, and another smaller purple one to its side.

Mulder ran his finger over the area with a light touch. He knew it was wrong, maybe even barbaric, but secretly, marking her gave him a little thrill. “I did that?”

“You did,” she agreed, allowing the sweater to cover the evidence once again. “It’ll heal.”

His mind switched gears. It had been almost two weeks since the transfer of the first batch of embryos and she hadn't said anything. “How’d the doctor’s appointment go?” he asked, already sensing her uneasiness. 

Scully took a step towards him, standing between his legs like she was about to share a secret. “The embryo transfer was successful. No hCG detected yet.” Her voice was shaky and her fingers tightened, squeezing the top of his thigh as if for support. 

“But you’re feeling okay?”

Scully nodded. 

“That’s important,” he said in his low even tones.

“I know,” she agreed in almost a whisper.

Gently, he touched her cheek. “And it’s important to me, Scully.” 

She took a step forward, mischief sparking in her eyes. Mulder met and held her gaze as her hands splayed over his chest. His arms went around her reflexively. 

“You don’t know how much everything you’re doing means to me,” she said, hints of love and affection seeped from her hardened walls, penetrating his own. 

“I can try.” His voice, so soft and even it felt like the caress of morning dew on a rose petal. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, vigilant and aboding.

They rocked against the other’s forehead as they slowly pulled away, his hand remaining threaded through her hair. “We shouldn’t be doing this in the office,” she told him, but her eyes stayed locked on his mouth. 

“I know,” he replied solemnly, “but when I think of us, and this baby, I get carried away.” His lips caressed hers again, then pushed against them, breaching them with his tongue; their mouths opening, slow and sensual, tasting each other again, their kiss deepening as the seconds passed. 

Scully pulled away with hooded eyes, her hands gripping his collar as his ran up and down her back. He pulled her in tighter so their chests were almost flush. “You’re right, we shouldn’t do this here,” he rasped out. “I’m in this with my life- our partnership, the X-Files. It’s too much for me to risk.” 

“I just, I don’t want this,” she said, looking into his eyes, referring to the casualness of their encounters, “to become _all_ we do.”

“I know,” was all he knew to say. He couldn’t offer her more, even though he wanted to offer her the world. Not now, and maybe not ever, but what they had in moments could fill a lifetime of scrapbooks and photo albums. And case files.

Not allowing him to finish his own thoughts, her mouth crashed into his, not heeding her own words, sucking and tugging his tongue into her mouth, grinding her hips against his crotch.

She broke a third time, breathing harder than the last two, shaking her head. “We have to stop. We have a meeting with Skinner, but, the truth is,” she ran her tongue over her lips, already moistened with his saliva, “I’m having trouble.”

He could feel her conflict mashing together with an extreme lust, swimming through her veins into his own. The pleasure surged a grin as their lips met once again.

“I hate how smug you are about this,” she returned, murmuring it into his mouth as he opened it to brush his tongue against hers, releasing a moan from them both.

“It’s hard not to be smug when you kiss me like you’ve never wanted anyone more,” he replied in even tones. 

Her lip quivered like the truth was so powerful it might bring tears to her eyes. “Mulder,” she whispered, “I never have.”

It took fighting every cell in his body not to lay her down on his desk, rip her clothes off and show her how badly he wanted her. That there was nothing and no one that ever held a candle. Instead, he simply kissed her. It wasn’t right to continue this without her knowing about the progression of his illness, but he didn’t want to leave her deprived either. His head dipped to her neck, sucking and kissing the pulsing artery. Then again, their job, as dangerous as it was, either of their lives could end. They knew at any given time, all they had was in the moment. 

She moaned and it forced his heart to bang violently against his rib cage, his erection painful from her advances and her touch, turned on to the point he didn’t know how much longer he could hold her off. Right, wrong, it was all a blur as her nipples brushed his chest and hand firmly pressed against his cock through the rough linen. One thing he knew for certain; he had never felt this good in his life, or more alive.

“Tell me what you’re thinking Mulder?” Scully sounded like she was almost begging. 

“I’m thinking of how wet you might have gotten from touching me.” Blood pounded in his ears, almost terrified to speak with her like this. “Are you?”

“Yes.” She moved in to kiss him, and he felt her fingertips moving once again against the tight restraints of his pants. His cock growing harder trying to mold to her hand. He held her wrist, forcing her to stall. It made her whimper and it was the sexiest sound he had ever heard.

“As much as I love the way it feels when you touch me,” he said, roughly, sliding his other hand up to the back of her head so he could press her ear firmly to his lips. She was a sailor’s daughter, she could take a little dirty talk. With butterflies flapping in his stomach, he whispered hotly, “Right now the score is 2 and 0. I want to watch you come, Scully. I want you to come so hard, everyone in that meeting will know what I did to you. Even Skinner will be afraid to leave us alone in a room.”

He could feel her body start to quiver and it made him want to proclaim his love to her. So he busied his mouth, kissing along her throat, the side of her neck, nibbling on the lobe of her ear, and slid his hand between her thighs until her heat surrounded his fingers. She rocked against his hard palm as he squeezed and rubbed her through her dark slacks. “You’ve got me so hard,” he whispered. “But, I want you wet. I want you to soak right through to my fingers.”

Scully placed a firm hand on his chest, leading him to his back as she lifted herself with one knee onto the desk to straddle him. The look in her eyes was dangerous and Mulder quickly pushed away everything in her path. Books, files, papers fluttered and crashed, his letter opener and nameplate tinging as it all hit the floor. He heard the thud of the sharpener and paperweight, and hoped he didn’t break his coffee mug as he flipped Samantha’s picture face down.

Mulder dropped his right hand to her hip as she mounted him to guide her pace, helping her rub against him. She rode him, dry-humping with closed eyes, her head tilted forward, her bruised plump lips exerting her hot breath into the nape of his neck. Every muscle in Mulder’s body vibrated with lust, and his heart beat pure white love into his veins. 

Scully dug her nails into his bicep. He could feel the pain from it even through his jacket and shirt. Her other arm wrapped around his neck as she gripped the back of his hair, sliding against him, quick and rough. Fuck, it was hot. “Mulder,” she whimpered in high octaves into his chest. 

With one hand, Mulder cupped her face. Writhing on top of him, she rotated her head, kissing his palm, sucking the middle and index finger into her mouth, rolling her tongue around the digits, taking them in and slowly withdrawing as Mulder watched in slack jawed awe.

His fingers dragged from her lips, down the length of her body. A few shaky fumbles and her button was undown and his hand inside, coated in her arousal. “Is this okay?” he asked, before proceeding.

“Y-yes,” she stuttered out in another high pitched moan. 

He maneuvered his two fingers over her clit, keeping them rigid while she pushed and slid against them, moaning with each stride. 

Scully sucked at the lobe of his ear before she tenderly kissed the temple and joined his gaze. “I want to come for you, Mulder.” 

“Scully, Please.” He was completely mesmerized watching her pleasure, doused in concentration, but he needed more. His fingertips teasing her entrance, she canted her hips forward until he penetrated her. He watched her lust soaked expression, as he felt her swallow his fingers into her plush wet heat. He bit down on his lower lip so hard, he thought he might draw blood. Knuckle deep, he pulled out just barely before she bared down and plunged his fingers back in. He tried his best to keep them still, flexing his wrist periodically to watch her jerk and moan. With the one free hand he rolled her tightening nipples between his fingers through her sweater. 

The sight of her getting close caused his groin to tighten and throb.

His hand left her breast only to help her move her hips faster, cupping her ass, giving her long strides against his length and his hand, causing him discomfort, but he didn’t care, his focus was solely on Scully getting off. “Soak me, Scully. I want to watch you come, come hard for me,” he pleaded, and she released a high pitched groan, several in succession, as his teeth drug against her collarbone. 

Her grip on the back of his shoulder tightened and so did her fingers entangled in his hair. “Mulder, ah, ah, Mulder, oh Mulder.. ,” she moaned in desperate pleas and throaty whispers.

His brows lowered and his lids turned to slits as he absorbed her pleasure. “Scully,” he returned lovingly. 

Scully rocked and rocked, her body lifting, bringing her chest even with his mouth, unable to resist he lifted enough to nibble the stiff peak through the wool. Scully rode out her orgasm and Mulder could never be prepared for how beautiful it could be fully clothed on his old office desk. Bliss filled oceans stared back at him and he couldn’t stop drinking them in. He didn’t turn away for one second. 

The moment returned from the glorious high, he sat up, bringing her with him, dropping his forehead to hers and running his fingers through her fiery locks, smoothing down the edges.

“Take your panties off, Scully,” he whispered inches from her lips.

“What? Why?” she asked, but kept herself anchored to his forehead.

“Because…” he swallowed hard, “I want you wrapped around my cock, and that’s the closest I’m going to get right now and I still have to get through that God awful meeting.”

The phone rang interrupting the intimacy and bringing them back to their surroundings. Scully stood and slowly, delicately, she undid her pants, slipping the satiny black material down her legs, stepping one heel out and then the other. 

“Scully,” she said as she answered, relinquishing her underwear. “Yes, sir,” she replied into the phone. Her eyes remained fixated on Mulder, her voice still deep with lust as she buttoned up her slacks. “Uh,huh. Right away sir.” She hung up the phone. Her breath caught, when he did as he promised beneath his boxers. “Meeting is starting in ten minutes.”

***

Home for the night, Mulder slumped on his couch. Pulling the soft satin gift from Scully out of his boxers, he stroked it with his thumb. His cock throbbed, reminding him of all they had left undone.

His thoughts wandered to her blue eyes pleading for him, how wet she got from rubbing against him and his hand wandered over his pant’s zipper with a firm touch. 

He hardened, imagining his fingers deep and wet inside her while they clenched around them. The tease of not yet having set his eyes on the bare pink flesh. 

His touch transformed to a hard stroke. 

That plump perfect breast in his mouth, creamy with perky rose nipples. Scully, innocent and dirty simultaneously. 

Groaning, he unzipped his pants, gripped his shaft and pumped it.

All day he had smelled her on his fingers. It was all he could do not to take her in front of everyone. But if that day ever came it wouldn’t be from lust, but it would be thrilling, special and something he knew they would never forget. 

His cock relentlessly throbbed in a plea for attention, he squeezed and ran his hand up the length. An involuntary moan fell from his lips. The sudden rush made his cheeks redden, reminding him of the inexperienced schoolboy performance he had given Scully in the car earlier.

He lifted Scully’s satin panties and held them to his face, breathing in her deep rich scent, her arousal musky and sweet. Maybe ol’ CGB was right, maybe he did have a fetish. Just not with the woman he thought.

Lowering his hand, he ran the silky material over his hard cock, teasing himself a bit. The lightest brush of the satin, knowing it was soaked by Scully as it held and cupped her sex was enough to push him to his limits. He slumped down further. The crunching leather of the couch cool against his heated back. His legs splayed wide as the satin panties coated in Scully slid softly up and down his shaft. She had gotten wetter and wetter from him, swollen at his prodding, biting her lip, moaning, the way her hips gyrated against him.

The speed of his hand quickened, harder and faster as Scully spilled from his lips and he came into his hand. 

God, the past few days had been glorious. He didn’t know what any of it meant or if it would continue, but he felt good to live in the moment, to not think and just feel.


	5. Emotions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter, Mulder had a vast interest in Scully's wardrobe. I'm not sure if the obsession didn't bleed into this one. This chapter covers "The Goldberg Variation", "Orison", and "The Amazing Maleeni". We're changing tones a bit with the introduction of Orison. Since Scully doesn't have to go through the entire "egg retrieval" process, as her eggs had already been retrieved, she gets to skip the bloated and heavy ovaries, the constipation and overall feeling of alien probing, the dreaded drugs that come with that process and extended forced menopause, blood draws, less procedures, and appointments aren't near as frequent and neither are the use of the wand. But, she still gets to ride the emotional rollercoaster and endure her share of shots, creams, and medications.  
> After all that, we'll need the lightheartedness of "The Amazing Maleeni" as they go on one of their famous "it's not a date"

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50179882033/in/dateposted/)

**“The Goldberg Variation”**

“Hey, nice outfit,” Mulder remarked as he emerged from under the northeast corner of 7th and Hunter in Chicago, underscoring Scully’s comment concerning his daily observations on her attire, assuring her that she would regret the mention. 

Scully felt slightly giddy at his playfulness and warm inviting smile. It had been a while since she had an almost carefree feeling. With all their tiers and overlaid deep-seeded emotions, her newfound infatuation with Mulder felt almost safe. Something frivolous as not to perforate her well-protected heart, yet meaningful enough to preserve their friendship.

***

“Scully?” Mulder called out as he knocked and entered her motel room. On her bed her suitcase lay open and the bed turned down, but she wasn’t in the room.

“In here, Mulder,” Scully finally answered. 

“Oh,” he returned, finding her in the bathroom in very baggy flannel pajamas that made his face cringe, “I thought you might be indecent.”

There was no face mask this time, but all she needed was fuzzy slippers and her hair in a bun to complete her ensemble. 

“Did you come over for a reason?” she asked, flailing her toothbrush before resuming the polishing of her pearly whites.

Mulder stood at the door, not quite comfortable stepping all the way into the bathroom. “Earlier in the case, you seemed in a hurry for us to get back to DC before sunset. I thought maybe Weems wasn’t the only one getting lucky tonight.”

Spitting into the sink, she eyed him in the mirror, finished rinsing, and asked, “Don’t you have something of mine? An article of clothing, perhaps?”

“You mean the one I’m wearing?” Mulder waited for her reaction and he got one. “I’m kidding. That’s really why I came in. I put it in your suitcase. Don’t worry, it’s been laundered.”

She gave him a weary look as she wiped her face, then glanced at the white stick laying conspicuously on the counter. 

She blinked rapidly. When she looked his way her face was red and blotchy. “Goodnight Mulder,” she said quietly and closed the bathroom door, leaving him on the other side with the harsh sound of her wall shutting him out. Like a bottle breaking over his heart, shards of her independent isolation left jagged little cuts, the warm blood oozing his desire for a closeness neither of them were willing to sacrifice for. His hand pressed firmly to the door as if he might shatter it with pure will. 

Standing there, he could almost envision another lifetime where he’d break down that door and cradle her in his arms, bring her to the bed and have their love alone create their miracle. But she was not helpless and he was not a saviour. Still, he’d be her biggest cheerleader and support system. 

When the door flew open, for a split second Mulder thought maybe he had done it with his mind. Scully stood on the other end, wide eyed and open mouthed. With a hand to her chest she gasped, “Mulder, you scared me,” and shivered like a wild gust of cold wind had pierced her body. 

An uncontrollable urge came upon him to melt the ice that formed inside, making her stiffen without his touch. His hand came down and brushed her dove feather cheek. Rain fell from her skies and he cupped it in his hand, drawing her near. Burying his nose, he breathed in her red wildflowers while she snaked her arms around him. The charge from their shared clandestine sorrow branched out from their open wounds. Her fingers weaved around his and their bodies melted into each other as they found their way on top of the sheets. Protected in the dark they shed the remainder of tears until the night lulled them into an innocuous slumber.

***

Days later, Mulder impatiently waited with his mug while Scully poured the dark rich aromatic brew in her own coffee cup. “Skinner was looking for the Weems paperwork. I believe you said you were going to complete it,” he told Scully.

“Was I?” she asked, filling his mug to the brim. 

“Yes. Oh, and I uh, I almost forgot, some of the guys down at the YMCA wanted to know if I would be around for a pickup game later today. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be somewhere, your doctor’s lab or something?”

Scully ran her tongue over her top lip. “Not today. The lab will contact you. Let you know when to start abstaining.”

Mulder smiled and nodded, taking a sip out of his steaming mug before sitting behind his desk and getting to work.

**Post “Orison”**

Blue thick liquid oozed over the side of the toilet bowl. Cleaners strewn from the small vanity onto the floor, tossed like bowling pins after a strike. The strong Antiseptic odor stung at Scully’s nose. Determined, she crawled under the kitchen sink and rummaged through all the empty and half full bottles, until, way in the back, she found it. Bleach. 

She was met with Mulder’s long legs as she backed her way out. She looked up at a pained expression. “What’s going on?” he asked softly.

“When was the last time you cleaned your bathroom, Mulder?” she prodded as she rose to her feet.

Mulder placed the bag down from the grocery store and chewed at the inside of his lower lip. Finally, he spoke. “It’s my bathroom. Let me help.”

Mulder tackled the toilet, the walls and the floor. Scrubbing the grout, using brute force to remove the stains of decades. Scully decided she wanted the shower. He watched her scour it to her fingers practically bled. His background in psychology told him the why, but to see his partner’s vulnerability in physical form, prickled him with anguish. 

When he couldn’t find another spec of dirt, mold, or hair, when he had re-caulked every crevice, he decided his indulgence of her new found obsession had to cease. He left her to the bathroom and rummaged for some clean sheets.

No matter how hard she scrubbed, Scully couldn’t wash the stench of evil off her skin or the stranger that lurked just underneath. There was someone inside her that she barely knew. The person capable of killing a man in cold blood, and containing the premonition in which it had already happened. Don’t look any further. Was it a warning that the devil was knocking at her door? Or that he was already inside? Scully reached for the shampoo and scrubbed at her scalp, her fingertip grazing over the bump at the base of her neck. _Who am I?_ she heard herself asking the steaming monster rising up from the shower walls. Did she build a fortress so strong that she had locked out her own consciousness? 

An hour passed and Mulder had tidied up his bedroom to what he felt was acceptable. A trail to walk from the bathroom to the bed and bed to the living room. Concerned she might be succumbing to the events of the past hours, he hesitantly knocked on the bathroom door. No response. Anxious of what might be happening on the other side, he reached along the top of the door frame, grabbed the pin, pushed it through the tiny hole in the center of the knob and unlocked the door. In the reflection of the mirror he saw Scully; her robe open, bruises of all shades covering her stomach. 

The sound of her sobs wound its way through him. “I don’t know if I can do this any longer…” She cried in defeat. 

“Scully,” he uttered. A hurricane of rage tore inside his chest. His lips narrowing to a thin slice of furry. “Is this what he did to you?”

Silently, she shook her head and allowed her robe to droop off her shoulders. There, Mulder saw fresh marks on her arm and back, others on her leg. If those were from her struggle with Pfaster, then what were the older ones?

“I-I don’t understand,” he let out painfully.

Slowly, Scully’s finger’s unraveled to reveal a syringe resting in her palm. With an affectionate consideration, he lifted her robe back around her, his arms devotedly wrapping tightly, surrounding her shuddering form. Gently, he took the syringe from her shaking hand and placed it in the case on the sink. She watched him, without giving even a token resistance except to pull the last edges of her robe closed. If one could shrink, without any real physical change, Scully seemed to do just that. In the mirror, his reflection pleaded to confide in him.

Scully lowered her head. “I’ve been perimenopausal since my abduction. The doctor wanted to increase the number of doses of estrogen and progesterone in this cycle to possibly give a greater chance of success.”

Mulder’s eyes watered and softened; his face paled. All this for her child. He wanted to be there with her through this. He’d asked to be included, perhaps too subtly. Did she think he wouldn’t accept the full burden? Didn’t she think he deserved the responsibility? “Scully, that night in Chicago, th-that wasn’t the first pregnancy test was it?”

“No.”

“When did you do the first test?”

“Seven days after the transfer.” She paused. “Then every day after that.” 

“So, in Chicago, was that before or after the doctor told you the results.”

“After.”

“But you took it again anyway. You didn’t give up and you can’t give up now. You still have enough for one more cycle.”

“The highest blastocyst grade out of the five he transferred was only CBC and that was all that remained from the original 16 they defrosted. There was only a 10-20% chance if that.”

“That’s all the more reason to try this last time.” 

He reached for the edges of her robe, but her hands only clutched tighter, until he laid his own over hers and her grip relaxed. Pulling the fabric apart his eyes skimmed past her breasts, her nipples. Their color, so exquisite they should have named a crayon after them. Her skin prickled in the wake of his regard. Reverently, he splayed his fingers over the multi-colored patchwork of welts and bruising on her pale skin.  
  
“They’re so…” her voice a strained whisper as she admitted, “Ugly.”

Instantly, giving her a startle, he turned her to face him, his voice breaking, “Don’t… Scully…” and dropped to his knees, his fingers scanning over the reds, purples, yellows and blues, gingerly leaving ethereal kisses, her pain, like a dandelion seed alighting and then being carried off by the breeze of his loving consecration. Watching over him, she found her hand wading through his benevolent strands of hair; her other holding the arm bracketed around her hip. Once covered in his healing tactility, he tipped his head back and she drew a sharp breath from the love refracted by his corneas as they shifted colors, as if accentuating each emotion held within his intricate kaleidoscope.

Releasing a shaky breath, she guided him to his full height. Raising up on her tiptoes she cradled his face and pulled his head down, their lips meeting in a kiss not born of sexual desire, but no less powerful. He had given her the courage to continue. 

Turning, she grasped the syringe and met his eyes again in the mirror. Sometimes single minded, maybe a little cocky and demanding, but those were only part of the man he truly was - the man she wanted to be the father of her child. The only man. 

He ripped open the alcohol packet. Removing the pad, he stroked it over the unblemished area of skin she indicated. Mulder held her robe from obstruction as she injected the hormones that she prayed would help lead to their child. Their breaths, slicing through the deafening silence in the small bathroom. His eyes never strayed from hers as he gently tugged the edges of her robe closed and loosely tied the belt.

**Post “The Amazing Maleeni”**

Scully waited in line with her arms crossed, re-evaluating her decision to go with Mulder to ride the Pacific Wheel at Santa Monica Pier. He had talked her into it after the case and she had been having so much fun, she willfully agreed, but now she had grown tired of his magic tricks. On any other evening she would have smiled at the couples strolling around the pier, imagining a future being reflected in them, her hand touched gently by a man who adored her, trying his best to win her affection. Tonight, her visions had soured because it appeared she was being stood up by her partner who probably got distracted by the fortune teller.

The man shouted, “Next!” and she allowed the timid young boy holding his equally shy girlfriend’s hand ahead of her. 

It wasn’t until she almost stepped from the line and went back to the motel that Mulder popped up giving her a wink. She pretended that time didn’t stop when she entered his orbit, or that her hands didn’t turn so clammy she was forced to inconspicuously dry them at her hip with the fabric of her slacks. 

“Where have you been?” she asked, but the operator was already waving at them, so she stepped inside the rocking car. Mulder slid in next to her, but not before passing a snide remark about her ability to meet the height requirement. 

“I thought you might get hungry,” he said, pulling a bag of fried powdered dough and cotton candy from the inside of his jacket, a shy smile playing on his lips.

“You’re going to get us thrown off the ride,” she returned.

“Let ‘em try,” Mulder answered gleefully. 

As they lifted towards the top, Mulder shared his stash of goodies and the night snuck in, the clouds turning the same color and consistency of the cotton candy she dined on. The Ferris Wheel came alive with lights on their second spin, the band’s music wafting up from the stage below. “We should go on the roller coaster next,” Scully said as the screams from its passengers pierced the sky.

“We’ll do it next if you like,” Mulder said. He stared into her eyes a little longer than usual and added, “This is like every Ferris wheel TV trope there is, isn’t it?” 

“Only if we kissed when it stalled at the top.” As if on cue their car swung and lurched to the top of the wheel coming to a timely halt. 

“But we wouldn’t do that,” Mulder returned.

“Nope. Not us.” She smiled at him and he warmly smiled back. It heated the already scorching day. Their electric tingle spread through her body and she forced herself to pull away so as not to lose her composure. She gulped in a big intake of air to calm her already wracked nerves. The air smelled of caramel popcorn and peanuts. Children were screeching and squealing in happiness, while others waited excitedly and impatiently in their queue, slowly inching forward to their next ride. All the while they gazed contently at each other, then back at the sun dipping into the ocean, cozy in their personal floating gondola.

“I bought you something,” he said, nonchalantly, shifting towards her.

“Mulder,” she returned, holding out her hand, trying not to get that excited over his impromptu gift. “Gimme.”

He chuckled and drew his hand to her ear, pulling from it a small, thin square baby blue box. 

Scully watched him place it in her palm. She held it for a moment trying to guess by the weight what it was. “So, what brought this on?”

“I don’t know, you just look so adorable in that top hat earlier today, I thought I’d get you something.”

She looked curiously at the box again. “I’m thinking this is too small for a hat box.”

“Open it.” Mulder peered on eagerly as she slid off the lid and placed it underneath. White tissue paper covered what was buried inside extending the anticipation, but when she pushed it aside there sat a disc, kind of shaped in the style of the stereotypical UFO. 

“It spins,” he explained, “but I want you to wait until the right day to spin it.”

“Why give it to me now, then?”

He shrugged. “Trust.”

“How will I know when the right day is?”

“You’ll know.”

Before Scully could tuck it back into its bedding, she noticed on one side there were two letters: V and Y. She looked at Mulder curiously, but he gave nothing away other than the twinkle in his eye and his mouth turning up in enjoyment knowing he was torturing her. 

Shortly after they stepped off the Ferris wheel, Mulder’s hand slid into her own and she let her body crash into his. If felt odd walking with their hands laced in front of the world, but at the same time she found her home in its warm tender clasp.


	6. Everybody Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder gets bitten by a snake and Scully pays him a visit at the hospital. Then Mulder's mother dies, Scully does the autopsy, and Mulder leans on Scully for support. Scully is in between cycles and hasn't started her last IVF treatment yet. Mulder is feeling proud and fancy free.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50204085448/in/dateposted/)

**Blessing, Tennessee - Post Signs and Wonders**

“If this was some kind of test, looks like I failed,” Mulder nodded in defeat.

“I’d say if it was, you passed with flying colors,” Scully replied, comfortably sitting on his hospital bed.

Mulder tilted his head showing his noncommittal to her analysis.

“You’re alive, aren’t you?” she proposed.

“Proud and fancy free,” he replied, repeating the reverend’s words to him, stinging for he was alive, but not exactly 100%. How could he have passed when he was not completely truthful to his own partner. Had the snakes sensed his misdirection and that was why they struck him? Or was it simply a lack of faith in religion and nothing more? Keeping the truth from her was getting more and more difficult, especially when he was in the hospital. She was all over the nurses and doctors, completing the forms they provided her. When the doctor asked, “Is he on any medications?” she promptly answered “No.” 

Thankfully, that was the current truth. He had been feeling so good lately, he just stopped taking them. In fact, it wasn't even on his mind until he was admitted today and Scully completed his medical history. What if next time he had a head injury? Then what? It had been over six months since his diagnosis. How would she react if she knew?

Scully looked up at the generic industrial clock hanging on the wall. “I cursed myself when I said we should go take the next flight out, didn’t I?” Scully asked.

“Ahhh, maybe,” Mulder answered. 

Scully leaned in towards him with her right hip, patting his leg through the sheet. “About these Catholic school girls.”

Mulder laughed to himself, nodding his head. “I knew you’d get back to me on that one.” Tilting his head, he pointed a finger. “You are Catholic.. And you’re a girl..”

“I’m female,” Scully corrected.

“So, how did you know I wasn’t referring to you.”

Scully leaned back, her fingers playing with his on the bed. “Well, Mulder, you used a plural, meaning more than one.”

Mulder chewed on his lip and raised his brow. “Are you asking me to rate them?”

“No.” Scully replied, massaging her forehead. “If you’re trying to get a rise out of me Mulder, it’s not going to work.”

“Actually, I was trying to get you to get a rise out of me.”

Scully smiled despite herself. “Mulder, it’s been a long day.” She lifted her hand to her neck line. “What made you go tieless today?”

Mulder shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe you dressing more casual inspired me to do the same. It’s tempting isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Seeing all that exposed skin.”

“Mulder, it’s just a button.” She was right, of course, but then she moistened her lips as she stared at the nape of his neck. It was exposed due to the unattractive periwinkle blue hospital gown, but in her eyes he saw her still picturing him in other attire. 

After more than six years he deserved to indulge his heart. Not suppress the elation he felt because of the way she had been looking at him the past few months. Maybe since her recovery. It was something he fell asleep to dream about and woke up in hopes to see again. That look of more. Yet he felt the walls of a dam that was yet to break in his own heart as much as hers. But the day it did, and it would, the force would flood the entire Milky Way, travel to reach stars in worlds that their love would cast out and gleam into the dim outer reaches.

“You don’t have to stay here with me all night, Scully,” he said when he returned back to Earth.

Her playful fingers were now lightly stroking his arm increasing the pulse rate displayed on the monitor. “There’s not much else to do in this town. It’s either this or browse around an antique shop they actually named, _Needful Things._ ”

“Spooky,” he replied, rubbing his thumb lightly over the top of her hand as their fingers laced. He felt short sparks of electricity in his heart from the connection. “I meant you can take the next flight home. I’ll meet you in the office in a day.”

Scully quickly dismissed his offer and instead proposed, “Why don’t you try and get some rest.”

The conversation teetered off, but her eyes never left his face. They weren’t supposed to feel this way. What they had was an arrangement, their first attempt already resulting with an empty fate. Scully squeezed his hand, but the warm nurturing touch he was accustomed to sizzled his skin. 

She leaned in to lay a kiss at his cheek and was slow to pull away. Their noses brushed and Mulder inhaled sharply. Their pull, her scent, was irresistible. He couldn’t quite gather the courage to do more than tilt his head, beguiled to the point that the devil could bring hell’s fury and it couldn’t break the spell, but she had to take the final step. He could feel the gentle scrape of her jacket against the thin hospital gown and it carried with it a molten blaze. The space between their mouths a bare whisper that blew away as her lips parted and pressed against his, her tongue following, swooping in to stoke the already untamed fire. 

He had an overwhelming urge to touch her somewhere, so he cradled the back of her head, his fingers curling around the soft red locks as their tongues entwined and became more demanding. A salty thought danced into his mind of the nurse coming in at the moment to give him a sponge bath, but he quickly brushed it away. 

Scully stiffened. “You’re right, there’s a flight tonight I could take, I could be in the office tomorrow.”

He didn’t know why, but he had to push her buttons. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d walk away from something because you thought it was too hard.” 

“You don’t think walking away is difficult?” Her question felt like a brick against his chest. Did she just admit to wanting to be with him? “Mulder, I’ve never done this before. Trying to conceive a child and deal with whatever _this_ is.”

“And I’ve never had an erection lying in a hospital bed before,” Mulder returned.

Scully laughed, instantly shattering the tension. “Are you sure about that?”

“Okay, maybe a chubby,” he smiled back. “Depends who the doctor is.”

That lifted an eyebrow, but she stayed on the bed, slowly surrendering to lie down, her head on his shoulder, her leg over his. To his disappointment, fully clothed.

That was where they drifted until the night nurse came in to take some blood, startling Scully awake. “I’m sorry, I know it’s against the rules,” she said sitting up, but the nurse waved her back down. 

“It’s okay, honey. I know how hard those chairs are. You’re not disturbing him, it’ll be fine. I’ll get the vial and be out of your way. It’s nice to see a husband and wife so in love.”

The nurse left the room and he threaded his arm under Scully’s neck as she settled back down, nestling into the crook of his arm, snuggling up against him, and giving him a squeeze.

Mulder smirked. “See honey, everyone knows how much you love me.” 

“Shut up, Mulder.”

An inexplicable contentment blossomed in his chest and spread through him like hot coffee on the first day of winter. He could spend the rest of his days like this. 

“They keep it cold in here,” she mumbled.

He could tell she was cold, not from her body that was molded against him through the thin sheet, but her heelless feet freezing his leg as it pressed against it. With his arm around her, he pulled her in closer, rubbing her back to get more circulation moving. 

Scully opened her eyes and leaned her chin on the back of her hand over his chest. In the dark room, the warmth of his masculinity encapsulated her. His heartbeat thrummed underneath her hand, his soft sleepy breaths caressed the top of her head. That preacher hadn’t a clue. Everything good in the world was lying in bed with her at that very moment. There was something hard wired into them both, a heightened awareness of the other, and every year it had been magnified. Laying against him now, the energy between them was so thick it could have danced and shimmered in the dark. Mulder lifted his head and through the bright beeping monitors, she was captivated by the sentiment in his eyes. Her breath caught, her fingers unconsciously stroking the cotton fabric, squeezing at his well formed shoulders and arms, slowly moving down his tight muscled abs. 

His eyes closed at the sensation and she kissed him, her hand dropping lower to find him hardening underneath her. He sucked in a breath and she deepened the kiss, Mulder’s fingers threaded through her hair. Her hand massaged the generous flesh underneath his gown that had grown so long it was practically climbing up his stomach. It throbbed and grew thicker still with each loving stroke. He moaned, brushing his fingers across her jaw, angling her head, intensifying the kiss. His tongue, compassionate and devout as the man himself as it brushed and caressed her own. Through it all she felt every bit of their friendship, all that she wanted captured within a press of the lips, and more than anything to be by his side, from the moment they connected on their first case in Oregon until that moment.

He dipped his hand lower and cupped her breast, squeezing at the peaked flesh. Even through the thick fabric she could feel the electricity course through her body. Was it the way Mulder touched her that made her feel so much or was it just that it was him? His soft moans and tortured groans against her mouth, his heavy breaths across her skin. 

In her mind they were both undressed, she was sinking down on him as he was filling her up in places she knew no one else could ever fill until she wailed and wept and begged him to never stop. When she felt his strong fingers nudge at the button of her pants, it was like cold water dousing her foggy brain. “Mulder, I’m not doing this here,” she whispered hotly, in labored breaths.

“Scully, we got a good two hours until someone comes back to check on me,” Mulder gently countered. “It might be close, but I think we can get it in just under the wire.”

She pulled away before she lost all control, got up from the bed, and gathered her things. She could only make out his silhouette as she spoke to him. “Get some rest, I’ll be back in a few hours.” The last thing she heard was his heavy sigh and the quick beep of the monitors as she closed the door to his room. 

It was all too much. Being with Mulder was all consuming and as much as she wanted to have a child with him, she didn’t know if she was ready for all of him. The thought of what that meant, having the X-Files be her life, from this day forward, till death do we part. And that was exactly what it would be with Mulder. Once she turned that key, there was no going back.

**Post Sein Und Zeit**

The television blurred to tiny flashing colored pixels. Teena Mulder carefully placed her glasses on her face, her mind and heart racing. The facts, a little girl missing, was not what did it. There was something about the expressions of the parents, the foggy details of the note. It hung inside her like a dying crow, flapping its wings to break free. Nervous and agitated, she walked into her bedroom. The note she had written, seeing Samantha standing before her six years after she was taken, whispering to her the details of where she had been, what they had done. She passed it off as a waking nightmare, a trick of the mind, but the image and the note stuck with her all these years. 

Surely, if the FBI was involved with this case, Fox might be there too. There was so much he didn’t know. So much they kept from him for his own good. She lifted the picture of him and Samantha off the dresser. Too many years had passed, but for her, the sting of regret and remorse, the blame all baked into the cross she placed on her shoulders every time she woke.

Carefully, she set the picture down and picked up the phone. If he was assigned to this case, he was in Sacramento. This time, Fox had come too close to the Truth. 

“I’m watching the news, that little girl in California, you’re out there aren’t you.”

“Yes, I am. Are you okay, Mom?”

“When are you coming back here?”

“Well, I’m not sure, I-I don’t know.”

“Call when you get back, Fox.”

“I will, um, you take care Mom, okay?”

She picked up the picture, carefully running her fingers over it one last time. Twenty seven years had passed. Twenty seven years of secrets: her relationship with Carl Spender, the abduction of her daughter. All that they refused to tell her, the uncertain futures even they didn’t know. The blackmailing of her husband they thought they kept from her. Fox’s voice with the constant questions and interrogations. It was time to release the locusts from the shells that they hatched. The void of her daughter, a gaping hole never to be filled.

She picked up the phone and spoke into Mulder’s answering machine:

“Fox, it’s your mother, I’d hoped you’d have called upon your return, but I haven’t heard from you, I’m sure you’re busy. There are so many emotions in me, I wouldn’t know where to start. So much that I’ve left unsaid for reasons I hope one day you’ll understand.”

She hung up with a heavy click. Just one more person in her life that wasn’t there when she needed to reach out, when she decided to come clean. It was too late for all that. Samantha was dead and she knew it deep inside her dismantled heart. Why bother her son with all that now? He had his life. Why throw him back to the past when he was finally moving forward? Through it all, one truth always remained: Teena Mulder was alone.

Her life had been full of misery and pain. She wanted it to end. The boiling of evil, destruction of families, deaths of so many, bubbled and burst inside her. The cancer spreading inside, rooted from the lies, from twenty seven years of torment. Her breasts, once providing sustenance for life, now filled with mutating cells with the singular purpose of bringing her to a debilitating painful end. She lit the match, one by one, each picture, each tainted memory, she burned, letting them smolder in a gray landscape of curled embers. Offering the images of her children to the gods, to atone for her own sins and betrayal of them. She burned along with it every document that created every cut and scar. With her death, might it all see the same fate and wash away to ashes.

Frantically, she turned on the gas in the stove, taped up all the cracks and crevices, grabbed her pills at her bedside, and emptied the bottle down her throat. With her head laid down on the pillow, she closed her eyes and walked her final path alone with no one there to follow her into the dark. 

**24 Hours Later, Quantico**

Scully breathed out slowly in a feeble attempt to calm her nerves. It was better if she didn’t think of the body as a person, let alone allowing her brain to comprehend that she was cutting open Teena Mulder. Instead, her thoughts focused on the crimes Teena had committed against her only son. The atrocity of leaving this earth without providing Mulder with any answers. Scully carefully made the Y incision and bile rose to her throat, half expecting the dregs of the world to come crawling out - maggots, crickets, pillbugs, and other creepy crawlies, but Teena lay on her back with only normal decomposition. Scully went through the motions for the sake of her partner. The doctor’s records had already been faxed in and it was confirmed that Teena had been dying from paget’s carcinoma. None of Scully’s findings suggested a struggle or any evidence of foul play. The woman killed herself and for that, Scully could not forgive her. Not without saying goodbye to someone as beautiful as Mulder. Poor Mulder. He was on the edge of emotional stability and he didn’t want to see the truth of his mother. Which left it to Scully to convince him of that truth. Anger rose up inside her. Too bad she couldn’t raise the dead so she could kill her again. If Scully had any hate in her heart, it was dedicated to Teena and the man Teena chose to let share her bed. 

Recalling Mulder’s state of mind at his mother’s house - panicked and erratic, emotionally unstable, refusing to see the truth- she knew she would have to be the one to tell him that his mother had Paget’s carcinoma. That his mother couldn't wait just a little bit longer and speak with him, give him closure, answers, before taking her own life.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50204894527/in/dateposted/)

**Apartment #42, Alexandria, VA**

When she got to his apartment with the results of the autopsy she found him incessantly listening to the answering machine, rambling about his sister. Scully relayed the news, the truth of his mother’s death.

Scully had been witness to Mulder’s seemingly insane utterances throughout the years. Never had she truly been afraid that he wasn’t completely in his right mind until now. 

When he finally came undone, his tirade startled her. She uttered his name and the dam broke. Bawling uncontrollably, she gently guided him towards her as he punched at the pillow on his couch. She rocked him like a child, holding his head, burying her face in his neck as he cried into her shoulder. The pain he was living, breaking her heart.

His overpowering frame leaned against hers. As she held the broken pieces, she couldn’t help but be consumed by anger. Angry at all the years they took from them. How much it all cost. Angry at his mother for not being strong enough to tell her son the truth. Angry at his fathers for discarding him, torturing him, keeping him ignorant to prolong his hope, using him as a pawn in their insidious plans. 

In the end, he was only a man and with the death of his mother, he collapsed. How could anyone do this to their son, to leave him like this, to do this to a man so beautiful, so sensitive towards the possibilities, so gifted, so loving, so….

As usual, she was left screaming in the dark. No one there to hold accountable for the pain, for his suffering.

Mulder cried, holding her tight, releasing it all against her, letting her cradle him until there were no tears left, and then he opened his heart. 

“Why didn’t I make the time… I could have saved her… It was my mother..

I’m alone, Scully. My whole family, everyone, is gone. When I die.. I’ll be the last. It will end with me.”

“You are never alone, Mulder.”

Mulder sniffled and chuckled, his eyes puffy and swollen.“Who? The grey aliens dancing in my head? The X-Files? Or the spy cameras in my apartment?” Lifting his head slowly, laughing through his self-deprecating tears, but when he saw the serious expression on her face, he froze. 

“You’re never alone, Mulder,” she repeated, “because you’ll always have me. I will never leave you.”

He stared into her eyes, unblinking, more tears threatening to spill from his lids.

“You told me to never give up, Mulder and I won’t. You will not be the last.”

He leaned in and kissed her, as if he couldn’t bear not to kiss her another second. Soaking her face with his tears, quickly devouring her lips as though he’d starve without her. 

Or maybe that was what she had been feeling, denying herself, pushed away by his obsessions, because she was clutching the back of his neck like a woman terrified of losing something. She returned his kiss with so much that she had been holding back too long.

Her hands ran over the crests and valleys of his body through his tight gray tee as their lips refused to release from the others. Pushing her up against the desk, he pressed his cock, hard and unrelenting between the damp, sweltering fabric between her legs.

“Scully, you are everything,” Mulder growled, before planting his mouth on hers again.

He wrapped her legs around his waist, and trailed his erection against her. Through the thick denim, she could still feel him hot and hard, unyeilding, grinding against her sex as if he could disintegrate everything between them. He jerked his hips to stimulate her clit and she shifted herself to rub against his jean covered cock. 

He thrust again and she lifted again, each trying to do for the other, hard against plush heat, until they fell into such a fast rhythm they couldn’t kiss, breathing hard, watching each other’s faces as they shed each other of their clothes- he lifted off her olive shirt, she clinked his belt open, struggling with his button, until he helped, pulling down his zipper, groaning at the contact of her hand wrapped around him. His eyes seared into her again. “It feels very different when it’s you touching me, Scully. More than I’ve ever felt with anyone.” 

She felt herself flush hot, the lightning sharp in her chest, Mulder sliding down her body, pulling off her dark pants and slipping down her black lace as he kissed along her curves. 

With both hands at her hips he locked eyes and lifted her onto the desk. Tenderly he massaged her thighs, his thumbs closing in on her center, growing the already swollen sensations. He kissed her again and she kept her eyes shut as he traveled down her neck, she never knew that could feel so good, she had always longed for these feelings, and to have them come so easily... 

Scully moaned audibly as he dipped his mouth and covered her nipple. “Mulder,” she whispered in a gulp of air. They were once again crossing another boundary of intimacy. Over his mother’s death, in a fit of frustration and barely controlled passionate rage. It was all just too… Mulder.

“Scully,” he murmured, his eyes searing and intense as he looked up at her, burning her in all the right places.”If you don’t want this, you have to say so because I’m about to show you what you mean to me.”

In a swift move, his mouth fell between her thighs like an untamed monster, sinking his tongue into her. Kissing her sex, pouring years of desire into the kiss, circling his tongue around her entrance, then following up the inner edge of each dripping plump fold, up and back down, concentrating it all around her insusceptible swollen clit. Scully didn’t stand a chance. Panting, writhing, and shuttering against his mouth as his tongue widened and lapped, rocking her hips as it hardened and thrust, her knuckles blanching, gripping tight on the edge of his desk.

She needed to stop him, but she couldn’t. The meds she was on were hell bent on increasing blood flow to the same area Mulder was tenderly kissing and lapping so reverently. 

Every fierce devoted emotion he had sprung forth into her as he languidly caressed the rough bumps and ridges along sensitive engorged flesh. She moaned into each build until she pulsed hard against his tongue. “Oh, God Mulder, OMG, oh,” she couldn’t feel him anymore, couldn’t hear or see, it was all just waves of sensation and then as she started to contract she felt his long thick finger sliding and stroking her contracting walls while his teeth gently bit down on her clit. “Oh God, Oh Mulder. Oh my God.” Scully moaned in an uncontrollable panic. She had never experienced such a heightened burst of ecstasy, like a boulder shattering against rocky shores.

With eyes still shut she felt his lips cover her mouth, filling it with the same tongue that filled her with so much desperation and caring, so much pent up feelings. The head of his cock brushed her inner thigh, sliding closer as it came in contact with the slickness left by the combination of her come and his saliva. Her core pounded with want, ravenous to have his cock inside.

When she looked in his eyes, she knew where he was headed. If she was ever going to let him cross the final frontier it wasn’t going to be in the heat of the moment while mourning his dead mother. She slid off the desk and sank down to her knees.

“Scully, what are you doing,” Mulder strained in surprise, knocked into his chair as he took a step back. Scully creeped forward, pressing her lips to the tip, then sucking the first few inches into her mouth.

His eyes scrunched and his jaw clenched. He planted his elbows on her shoulders and held her head as it lifted and dipped. “Scully,” he gasped.

This was the first time viewing him this close in this condition. He was perfectly shaped, his shaft smooth and tan, warm against the musty apartment air. The crown was wide and swollen, curved like the hood of a classic car. Scully ran her flat tongue around the pinkish band then over the slit in the center, Mulder replying with a hungry noise. 

He moaned loudly as she flexed her tongue over the head in a circular motion. He groaned her name and she kept it up, enjoying the ability to make him feel something other than pain, varying her technique, drinking in the shaft, stroking her tongue up and down, tickling the flange. 

Mulder pressed heavy fingertips through his hair, gripping it at the back. The other arm tightened around her. She lifted away and looked up at his eyes. His brow formed two lines between them, his bottom lip in a U, and it shot flames right to her center. Scully extended her tongue and languidly licked up the long shaft. It tasted of a salty darkness, one that begged for her.

She sucked along the length, Mulder moaning loudly as she hit each spot, moving his legs farther apart while she continued, his feet rocking to his toes. She heard the whisper of her name, and her throat, filled with him, could only vibrate in response. It was difficult since he was so big, to go all the way to the root, but she was determined, wanting to devour him, swallow all the darkness until he had nothing left. 

Mulder’s legs clenched at either side of her, the sounds coming out of his mouth incoherent. His hips jerked when she finally completely enveloped his shaft, she held his thighs firmly, smiling at the thought that it was so good he couldn’t keep still.

She dipped her hand between his legs and gently palmed his balls while she sucked. He shuddered, and she felt the pulsing inside him, she moved faster, pushing and pulling him in and out of her mouth until his whole body stiffened and his grip on her tightened. Loudly he moaned and cried her name. Her heart beat swiftly, but she stayed put, he tasted like fine cream with a rebel bite. His orgasm went on and on, a gradual pulsing release, the accumulation of contradictory emotions, breaking him, over and over, spilling from his eyes, and from his throat long, hitching sobs. Scully held on, her tongue milking the rest as she swallowed, her throat clenching around him, needing a piece of him inside her.

Mulder dragged her up to his face, kissing her hard. He pulled away and looked at her, his face softened. He wrapped his arms around her, but the tears hadn’t stopped. He wept onto her skin, shaking underneath her. All she could do was wipe the tears from his cheeks. 

  
  


TO BE CONTINUED...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is where things really get tricky. Mulder was already in the hospital with his arm. He'd have to alert the doctors to any ailments or medications in order to receive medication, proper treatment, or anything else. Scully wasn't in the hospital getting him checked out? And even if you give that time a pass, what about Signs and Wonders? Mulder wasn't able to speak for himself. You know Scully would be all over those doctors making sure he didn't die from the snake bites. Food for thought. I’m playing this out to the end, so we'll see where it goes. 
> 
> If you're interested, my fic Rooted in Friendship has the IVF in S6 and deals with the brain disease in a completely different way. I wanted this fic to be different than Rooted and have different choices which is why the IVF and other things are included in s7. The dates on Scully's medical files that Mulder finds in Parenti's office don't necessarily point to IVF dates in s6 even though that is my head canon. it could have been fibroids or anything, but it does mean she had been seeing him a while. 
> 
> If you decide to check it out, Rooted in Friendship is written in a way that you can skip around and read just certain episodes or only s7 or whatever you choose, so don't let the chapter length scare you off. Most chapters are stand alones. My fic Falling is S5 to All Things and the sexual tension in that is set on overdrive.


	7. Cherry Snow Cones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter takes place during "Closure" and before "X-Cops".
> 
> Mulder is feeling the effects of the loss of his mother and goes to see his doctor concerning his most recent symptoms. Scully is preparing for her last chance at IVF and her emotions are running the gamut. The shots and medications are getting to her and she's having severe mood swings. Mulder does his best to be patient with her and give her what she needs.
> 
> We continue this story at Mulder's apartment picking up right where we left Mulder and Scully in the last chapter.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50230355638/in/dateposted/)

Coming down from their high, Scully was suddenly very aware of her body and more so her lack of clothes. Mulder’s tears were subsiding, but she didn't want to face his judging eyes. She spoke quietly as she stroked his head. “Mulder, I’m going to take a quick shower. You’ll be okay?”

He nodded his head slowly, vacantly, like a bobblehead running out of steam. 

Quickly, she gathered her clothes and headed into the shower. She was concerned about Mulder’s state. The places he was traveling inside his mind, like a race car with faulty brakes running through red lights, frantically searching for a way to make it stop. Deciding between colliding with a tree or driving off a cliff. 

She angled the shower head to not get her hair wet and continued to soap her body and rinse. Her legs still shaking from how incredible he had made her feel. My God, she couldn’t believe how good he was with his tongue. She had suspicions, but… hot damn. How badly her heart wanted to give into it. Scully washed her face, raking her fingers over it. He was broken. He couldn’t be another creature she was determined to bring back from the dead. Scully turned off the faucet, getting a sudden chill from the air and reached for a towel. Their intentions had to be pure. 

Dressing back into her clothes, she shut the light and headed into the dark, finding Mulder laying on the bed. Without much hesitation she laid down next to him and he immediately wrapped himself around her like he was clinging to a life raft.

“Did you take any aspirin? I could get you some water,” she offered. 

He didn’t answer, but squeezed her tighter. As she held him, she could feel his tears against her chest. 

The next few hours were filled with fits of crying and bursts of rambles until Mulder finally cried himself to sleep. Scully drifted for a while, then woke. Her back hurt from the strange mattress, but it was too early to leave, too late to fall back to sleep. Instead, she got up and followed her curiosities. What had his mother left him as a goodbye note? 

One more quick glance at the bedroom door and she lowered the volume and pressed play on the machine. Teena Mulder’s voice hauntingly clamored from the other side. Nothing hinted at the conspiracy Mulder proposed. If she had decided to go to her grave with the truth, perhaps Scully could dig up the remains. Nothing left without a trace. Not even Samantha. A copy of a doctor’s report with Mulder’s name on it caught the corner of her eye. She reached for it when a knock came at the door. 

**Three Days Later…**

Mulder stared at the brain scans in disbelief. “So the headaches I’ve been having… it’s because the disease has worsened.”

“Not necessarily.” The doctor handed him a sheet of symptoms.

They were:

  * Disturbance of auditory sensation and perception.


  * Disturbance of selective attention of auditory and visual input.


  * Disorders of visual perception.


  * Impaired organisation and categorisation of verbal material.


  * Disturbance of language comprehension.


  * Impaired long-term memory.


  * Altered personality and affective behaviour.


  * Altered sexual behaviour. 



“Would it make me see ghosts?” Mulder asked half joking.

“Not real ones,” the doctor answered.

“Altered behaviour,” Mulder read from the list. “I just lost my mother and my partner told me I was, as she said, creating outrageous fictional scenarios. She used the words erratic and emotionally unstable … so, I don’t know.”

“Altered personality is defined as anything out of your normal personality. Highs, lows, easily agitated. Or you might find yourself abnormally happy all the time. An ignorant bliss usually stemming from memory impairments.”

Mulder scanned the paper again. “Altered sexual behaviour?”

“Again, an altered behaviour. I’ve had patients have strings of one night stands and on the other end of the spectrum erectile dysfunction. It affects different people in different ways.”

Mulder looked away. If he didn’t bring it up, it would weigh heavily on his mind. “I have a friend and we’ve recently crossed some lines in our relationship. Could my decision have been influenced by my brain disease?”

“That’s not something I can determine,” the doctor answered. “Do you think your recent actions with this woman were one of haste? Do you think it was fueled by logical progressions or heated uncontrolled emotion?”

“Well, she’s been taking hormones and if my disease could have affected my behaviour… I don’t know. I don’t know what to think anymore.” Mulder looked over the list again. “My memory has remained intact. Long and short term. I was having auditory and visual issues in the beginning, but not anymore. Is it normal for symptoms to come and go?”

The doctor shook his head. “It can be possible that other parts of your brain are compensating, but maybe it’s only your perception. You will have to rely on others’ opinion to be certain.”

“My partner would tell me if I started acting strangely. She’d call me out on that right away. Unless, the hormones have skewed her perception.” He raked a hand through his hair and puffed air from his cheeks. “You’re really not doing anything more than monitoring. I come to you every month and all I hear you tell me is that it’s getting worse, but truthfully, I feel great, and if there is no way to treat me, I just don’t see the point of continuing.” 

Driving back, lost in thought, Mulder considered what he had told Scully when she had seen the dead while on that case years ago. Did he see Samantha because he was dying? Very unlikely. Scully had told him last year that she had seen her father the night he died and no one was dying then. Scully prayed with Albert Hosteen after he died. Mulder had seen the dead years ago on the bridge between worlds. There were many reasons people might see the dead and being close to death was only one.

Harold didn’t see his son because he refused to believe his son was dead. He wasn’t able to see his mother because of how discouraged and how much his beliefs had been shaken. He heard her, as proof on that notepad, but couldn’t see her. Maybe he still held resentment in his heart. It was possible his continued increased brain activity made him access the other realm easier, to see Harold’s son and allow his son to guide him. 

Mulder pushed heavier on the gas pedal and the engine roared, sending the speedometer towards the 75 mark. No. He understood what had happened to Samantha, could see, because he believed. He saw his sister, not as some hallucination, or some dying susceptibility, but because he believed, and he opened himself up to the possibility of a religious experience. And his sister had the desire to reach out to him, to let him know she was free, at peace, and wanted him to be the same. 

Then there was his mother. She had been asked to make a choice, whether she did or not, she knew who took her child. Everything his mother never told him. How hurt and desperate he had become and to think, he was keeping his truths from Scully. Possibly the hardest conversation to have with her, but how could he continue now that he had been on the other end of the reaper's scythe. He promised himself, with the completion of the last IVF, no matter the result, he would tell her. Although, he was also convinced he wasn’t bothering going to the doctor anymore. There was no cure and he didn’t need to be reminded every month how bad it was. The doctor said he could live without a temporal lobe. What if that was all it was? 

Mulder stopped at the red light and shut his eyes as they burned, threatening to release his tears. Dusk blanketed his face, but he wouldn’t give anyone the satisfaction of catching a glimpse of him so raw when he entered the apartment building. 

Instead, he waited until he was home, sitting on his bed, surrounded by the few photos he had kept or found in his mother’s basement. The rest she burned, as if erasing them from existence. He’d never do this to his child.. Suddenly his shoulders shook, with no attempt to hold back or conceal his tears. Lifting her diary from his pillow he held it close to his chest as he rocked. Samantha had been tortured, experimented on and taken by men and aliens. Had she been completely alone? Had Cassandra, going through the same experiences with her offer her any solace? His young sister had been put through so much. The thoughts brought him back to tears. Would he join her soon? Be buried in the ground or cremated, turned to ashes just like the photos his mother set ablaze?

His body rocked forward and he lay on the mattress in the fetal position, the pictures like stones marking the time. It was all that was left of fading memories. The world hazed; sight, sound, smell, all melted and fuzzed. It set forth a typhoon, his chin trembling, his breath releasing silent screams that burned at his throat, as he sobbed, gasping for an air of relief that wasn’t there.

In the blackness, the emptiness of his soul seeped the pain beautifully through his veins, winding and swirling grief and self-loathing and he embraced it all. And that was when he felt Scully’s arms, as if there in the room, comforting him and pulling him out from the depths. A showering luminescence in a starless sky. Finding Samantha had been his purpose, his life, his family. With all that gone.. Scully was now his world.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50232934826/in/dateposted/)

**Saturday, FBI Headquarters**

“I’ve got a couple case files I want to review. What do you say I pick up some Chinese food, be over your place around 7 or 8?” Mulder posed, as he tossed a file on his desk, sliding it towards Scully. 

Scully didn’t flinch or pick up the file. “It’s Friday night, Mulder.”

“I know, and tomorrow is Saturday. What’s your point?” Mulder asked, lifting his brows.

Scully stared him down, re-enacting an entire conversation in her head. Most of it ending in a bitter argument, none of it the way she wished it would go. This was their problem in a nutshell. 

“Is there something wrong?” Mulder said, standing, now with his hands at his hips, looking at her in utter bewilderment. 

He looked so cute with his freshly cut hair and earnest look on his face, that she almost forgave his ignorance. Almost. She replied indignantly, “I’m spending the night by myself, Mulder. Do I need permission to spend a day away from work?”

He passed her another incredulous look and it only made her more frustrated. “We’re flying out Sunday night. There’s been reports of a monster roaming the streets in Willow Park, CA. We need to get there before it moves to the next town.”

Scully relented. Why did she think it would change ? What did she expect? Him to ask her on a date? Show up to her house with chocolates and flowers and ask her out to dinner and a movie? That line of thinking would only lead to disappointment. This, was what they had. Reliable. Controllable. She crossed her arms.“What kind of monster?”

“It’s not really clear, but last report I believe was a werewolf type creature,” Mulder said, sitting back down at his desk. 

The contrast of life with Mulder to any other man she had ever had a relationship with was almost laughable. “Haven’t we done enough with werewolves?”

Mulder leaned back on his chair, rocking it with the foot he propped against the desk.“I have reason to believe this werewolf might be a poly-shifter, taking on multiple forms.”

She would be lying if she didn’t think she deserved a little more than a Ferris wheel ride after a case. Maybe it was just his failure to acknowledge that her birthday present would be a monster killing people in the California moonlight. “Would that still make it a werewolf?” she asked, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice.

“Maybe we don’t have to fly to California,” Mulder said, interlocking his fingers and studying her face, looking like a dog tilting its head to hear better. “I’m watching someone shapeshift right in front of me.”

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50233243422/in/dateposted/)

**7:35p.m.** **1419 Pendrell Street West End, Georgetown**

Scully answered the door to her apartment already anticipating Mulder on the other end. When the mystery revealed itself, she waved him in, turning and heading to the kitchen. There went her chance at relaxing, but she wasn’t sure that she should have expected any different.

“I recall telling you I was taking the night off from work,” she called out.

Mulder shook his head as he set the large paper bag of food on the table. “No X-Files. I didn’t want you to forget to eat, so I brought you Chinese food.”

“Thank you,” Scully replied, already placing some bowls and spoons down. “What do you want to drink?”

“Iced tea is fine,” Mulder answered, carefully opening each carton and pouring wonton soup into each of the bowls. “I wasn’t going to knock. I heard you enjoy men coming into your house unannounced.”

Scully cast Mulder a weary look. “Skinner told you about the Smoking Man.”

Mulder didn’t answer, instead sitting down and shoving a couple chopsticks full of General Tso’s into his mouth and drowning it with some tea. Scully realized in seven years she had never been annoyed at the sound of Mulder chewing or the little habits he had. It was all a comfortable acceptance. Knowing his movements before he made them yet still appreciating the journey. Similar to the enjoyment of watching ducks feed on bread in a pond.

“Ready for Sunday?” Mulder asked with a smile before sucking the drooping Lo Mein noodles off his chopsticks and into his mouth. 

Scully played with her rice, not as hungry as she thought. “I’ve got my clothes ready and I’ve got the travel approved. So, yes.”

She watched as he wiped his mouth with the napkin and drank more tea. He nodded his approval. “Depending on the size of the creature we may need to employ the local zoo and..”

Scully shook her head and sighed. Here we go. “Mulder, if this is our dinner conversation..”

“No. I’m sorry. No work.”

Scully relaxed and started eating. “Where did you go the other day? You left work early.”

“I had something personal I had to take care of.”

“Doctor?”

Mulder put down his chopsticks and she could sense his discomfort. “Scully, it’s personal.”

Scully knew Mulder wouldn’t lie to her under direct questioning. Not since Ellen’s Air Force Base over six years ago. He was practically begging her not to pursue it. So naturally, she went the other way. The heat, already crawling up her spine like spiders after prey. “Well, it can’t be a family issue. So, did you pick her up in the office or on the street?”

Mulder set the napkin on his plate and started folding up each carton of food. “Right. After all this time I decide now is the time for that.”

“I’m not holding you to anything, Mulder. You can do what you want.” Pangs of insecurity coated her voice and it ate at her like squirrels on an acorn.

“I _am_ doing what I want,” he replied in a sensitive monotone.

Now it was Scully’s turn to set down her napkin. “I think I’ve lost my appetite. I’m suddenly feeling very tired.”

Mulder looked up at her, the corner of his mouth rising. “What do you normally do on a Friday night? Play a board game? Do that thing you do to your face? Read a book?”

“Clean my gun…” Scully muttered hotly.

Mulder got up from the table and set the plates in the sink and the food on the counter for Scully to decide where to put it in the refrigerator. “We’ve got a little over a week left before the last deposit,” Mulder said, wiggly his brow.

Scully didn’t stop to analyze it, but the whole sentence rubbed her the wrong way. “It sounds so eloquent when you say it like that,” she responded.

“I’m just pointing out that tonight will be the last night before I have to start abstaining,” Mulder said, finishing rinsing the dishes, drying his hands on the nearby towel. 

“Don’t let me stop you from hurrying home to call your 900 number. Make sure they know Marty won’t be making next month’s car payment.” Scully picked up each container and made room in the fridge. If this was his way of wooing her, a carton of Mu Shu Pork and a serving of failed subtlety wasn’t going to hack it.

Mulder gritted his teeth and wiped a hand over his face. After a deep breath, he headed to the couch and sat down. “There’s a ballgame on tonight...”

“I think you’re right. I might just read a book,” Scully interjected, joining him on the couch, really hoping he would take the hint and leave. She picked up the book and opened to where it was bookmarked.

“The Unbearable Lightness of Being. A little light reading?” Mulder said sarcastically.

“Compared to what? This month’s edition of Celebrity Skin?”

Mulder leaned back on the couch, his thumbs pressing against his eyeballs. 

She was wrong, now even his breathing was getting to her. He was being truthful when he said he didn’t come over to talk about work. Obviously, he was just horny, and somehow that made it worse. “I hate that you’re just sitting there, hinting, like you expect me to just…”

Mulder bolted upright. “Scully, that’s not true. You think that’s why I came over?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.” He was right, he wouldn’t treat her like that. Maybe she wanted him to. She sighed loudly and picked up the book and read a couple lines, then looked up. “I want you to know, I’m not ungrateful for everything you’re doing for me.”

He met her eyes and she felt them well with tears. She didn’t even know why she was crying. She just hated everything. Him, her, the fact they were in this position to begin with, the fact that she even started this with him. 

Trepidatiously, he placed his arm around her and she slumped into his frame with freely flowing tears. The book slid to the floor with a sharp crash and a whisper of fluttered pages. It registered in that moment how much she ruled him, pushed him away and lured him back in, like a Duncan yo-yo, she had him tied to a string. But he understood the root of all this and he hadn’t taken any of it personally. He really just wanted his Scully back, before all the medications and shots, before all their fears and heartbreak. He felt her kiss his cheek and her hands snaking up his back. For a moment he forgot his disease, her infertility, or the complications of what grew between them. It was only them, in the moment, her lips, her curves, her hands on him begging. He only wanted what was best for her. To give her what she needed. The only question now was, did he leave her to sort it out or stay and make them both feel better.

“I’m sorry,” she weeped as she knotted her fists in his shirt and he pulled her harder against him. 

“It’s all right,” he whispered into her hair.

She lifted her head. Every spectrum of emotion she had felt dissolved into him. She brushed against his latest bit of stubble, the love and caring he showered her with throbbed in her veins. Any anger or fear was lost against his mouth, kissing her gently, carefully. He knew more of what she needed than she did sometimes. 

He groaned softly, low in his throat and if filled her with heat. Her kiss grew more aggressive, but he slowed the dance, gathering her against him as they slid down to lie on the couch. Their soft kisses slowly morphed and gathered in intensity, as she rolled underneath him, his lips sending tremors along her nerves. The weight of his body pressing her into the sofa, inhaling his aftershave and shampoo and… him. The sound of his moans against her mouth, the feel of his hot skin underneath her hands, transformed her to another place where all there was, all thoughts and senses, were of him. 

Mulder carefully lifted from their kiss and rolled to his side so she could lay against him. She buried her face in his neck, curling up inside his arms, and fell asleep.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50232168513/in/dateposted/)

Waking in the darkness with only the faint glow of the street lamp offering illumination, Scully checked the time. A little after midnight. She rolled away from Mulder’s heavy grasp and headed to the bathroom. Stripping her clothes, she stepped leisurely into the shower, toes flinching as they touched the chilled ceramic floor. Her mind was in shreds, memories, never to leave their sanctum. 

She turned the dial, shiny and silver, releasing thousands of heated drops, the sound of heavy rain, darkening her hair and trickling down her back. She took careful notice not to touch the bruises scattered about her lower abdomen. As she soaped her body, images flickered like photographs, reliving moments over and over: Pfaster, the fight, him pushing her down, her tossing the shelf over him, the pull of the trigger. She flinched, her head going back as if she was shot. The water poured down her face and she used her hands to cascade it away until her mind faded to a dull foggy illusion, allowing the steamy water to calm her. Sending the images, the anger, the helplessness, swirling down the drain. While rising in the mist were thoughts of Mulder. Sorrow for what he went through, embarrassment at how easily they gave into temptation, anger of how easily he accepted her as a side piece to the X-Files. How she would just willfully obsess along with him. Have him consume every ounce of her life. 

Mulder, Mulder, Mulder. Closing her eyes to the water as the heat soaked into her skin she could almost feel his wet hot tongue massaging the muscles inside her. The way his mouth kissed her folds and sucked at her like a sea bass on a feeding rage along tender pink coral. Her tooth bit deep into her lip as her body pulsed. 

A gentle knock and Mulder’s voice calling her name in the far distance snapped her back to reality. His deep voice boomed her name again as he entered her bedroom. Gooseflesh prickled her skin. 

When the shower door snapped open she didn’t even flinch, feeling his naked form behind her even without turning. Her lips parted and she inhaled deeply, turning her head and watching the stream of water drip softly from his hair, making their way down his formed shoulders, chest, perfectly defined abs, and legs. The water accentuated each sculpted muscle, and dripped steamy rivulets off the tip of his flaccid penis that hung just past his scrotum. It was enough to cause a woman to overheat. She leaned against the cool tile, her shaky legs threatening to buckle beneath her throbbing center. 

“Mulder,” Scully sighed, the exasperation clear in her tone as his concerned eyes flashed down her body to the bruises on her belly before rising back to her face. She watched the water caress his skin and her heart beat hard. Slowly, he raised a hand and cupped her cheek; she leaned in closer, standing on her toes, as he kissed her gently. His hands glided over her water slicked body and their kiss grew deeper.

Cool, thick liquid dumped over her head and covered her face like a can of falling paint. Scully squealed out, “Mulder!” laughing, playfully struggling against him. 

“I thought you might need some suds,” he laughed, massaging the shampoo into her head with both hands, taking care as he did. The act, so gentle and tender, touched her heart. His body came around her as he smiled evilly again and they both stumbled underneath the spray of the shower head.

When their chuckles died down and their smiles faded, they found their arms around each other, their lips once again inches apart. He leaned down and kissed her, not minding the soapy taste in their mouths. Less than a year ago, practically another lifetime, there would have been a hesitation which would have led to a smart somewhat scalding remark. Enough to create distance. Not anymore. At least not tonight. 

He stared at her, stalling for approval, lightning pulsing through her body as she nodded. As if her permission weakened his knees, he fell to them, kissing her hip bone like he was saying a prayer before trailing lower. She could feel herself swell the closer he got to her center and she flit out her tongue to caress her top lip. The water cascaded over him, while _his_ lips ran across her body, over her mound, stroking each lip, one after the other with his tongue, sucking the water from her folds as his jaw flexed with each deep kiss against her plush heat. 

Scully took a quick inhale of breath. Mulder was so focused and attentive, relentless, and to have all of that directed towards… “Oh, God,” she cried out over the steam, his tongue interrupting her every thought.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered in angelic tones as he kissed and nuzzled into each part of her sex. “Perfect color, perfect smell, perfect taste.”

Leaning against the shower wall, Mulder drew her legs further apart. She breathed in the fresh shampoo scented steam, fisting her hands in his hair as his tongue curved slowly along her slit until it reached her clit. He circled and sucked, then let his tongue drag back down again. At the same time his thumb gently circled right above her hood, the combined sensations, her body reacting to his touch, making her cry out, her head falling backwards so the full force of the spray ran over her face. She arched her hips against him and tightened her hands in his hair, moaning as he drove his tongue into her again and again.

“Oh, God Mulder.” She moaned and mewled and cried again, “Mulder, Oh God.”

When she looked down at him, his eyes were closed, like he was tasting the most delectable dish. He moaned softly, his lips pursed gently around her clit. “Mulder,” she groaned.

She watched as he locked their gaze and dipped his tongue inside as deep as he could go, pulling out slowly, closing his eyes as his tongue slid against her wall, opening his eyes as he returned. The tip of his tongue curled, his pupils enlarged and she cried out, hearing his loud groan of pleasure in return, she felt her sex flutter against his tongue and chin. 

In a sudden move, he pulled out and licked up to her clit then back, passing her entrance; his light stubble scratching at the delicate skin at the inside of her cheek. Scully tensed. No one had ever been permitted to do that before and she could tell Mulder knew by the throaty chuckle he released at her hesitation. His hands massaged her ass trying to get her to relax, gripping it gently. His fingers taunted one entrance as his tongue teased the other. Over and over her body pulsed at his ministrations enough for her to lose her breath and start climbing up the shower wall. He parted her lower lips and let one finger slide in, then a second. His thumb pushed hard on her clit and she bucked against his hand. His fingers began working her like a corkscrew, bringing her so close she could practically taste the orgasm. 

“I get so turned on by you, Scully,” he mumbled. Before she could reply he was already moving, circling his tongue, licking at her, the tip of his tongue pressing just hard enough to set her nerve endings on fire. Closer, his nose dug between her cheeks as he licked, all the while his fingers sliding in and out. She moaned and shivered against the shower wall as his tongue’s assault continued, her body being lifted by the enthusiasm of his face and hands. Her hips bucked, rocking in time to his rhythm, his thumb moving wildly over her clit. There were words coming from her mouth but she couldn’t hear them. She had never been with anyone that made her this hot before, or was this dirty, or this focused. Thick and slick his fingers sent a scorching path to every nerve ending along her front inner wall. Her knees buckled and her insides contracted reflexively around his fingers and clenched around his tongue, thumping against his thumb. Her body still shaking with aftershocks when she looked down to find she had a direct view of Mulder’s glorious cock beneath her. Tempting, hard, and unbelievably beautiful. Tight silk skin over stone with a gentle curve pointing to her, his true north. 

Rising to his feet, his face pulled back in a wide grin. Scully looked at him horrified. His brows came together. “What?” he asked, wiping at his face. Then he looked at his fingers, red with her blood. 

“Mulder, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t expecting..” she started.

“It’s okay, I was low on iron anyway,” he snided, cleaning himself off under the water.” He looked back at Scully and smirked. “It’s okay, really.”

“What, did you get off on it?” she asked, turning away from him and towards the spray, washing herself.

“No,” he said, defensively, “I’ve never even been in that situation with a woman before.” 

She could feel his tall looming essence behind her right before he caringly covered her hand. “How could that be?” Scully asked, turning off the shower.

“I’ve never lived with a woman. My relationships, because of my pursuits, have always been, somewhat distant, jaded.” 

“I wasn’t expecting that to happen. Another side effect of the drugs.”

“Scully, stop explaining. It’s a part of you. We’ve seen so much horror and gore, that.. is _not_ . It’s you and it is _not_ a deterrent. Not _ever_ , but if you’re uncomfortable about it, that’s okay too,” he said softly.

She could feel him hard against her back and her breath caught in her throat. It would be nothing for her to tell him to put it inside her, and he would, he’d do anything she asked, but still, even after as far as they had taken it, something was holding her back. 

Mulder reached out and handed her a towel. He brushed and gargled while she dried off. She heard him as he lifted the seat and emptied his bladder. Scully politely waited until he was finished before stepping out and he made a deal of dropping the seat down as she did. 

“You can stay the night,” she said. “It’s late and we’ve got a flight to catch in the morning. That is, unless you need to pack.”

“No. I-I can stay.”

In her gray silk pajamas she lifted the sheet and got into bed, staring at Mulder with her hand tightly tucked under her pillow, Mulder staring back. 

She looked into his eyes and saw a reflection of her emotions, nervous and scared, slightly bashful. Peering into each other like this, after what they just shared, what they felt for each other, was earth shattering. The quakes in the aftermath split into their protective crust and in the early hours, they revealed to each other parts that had never seen the light of day.

It took courage to even look into his eyes because every time she did, a fire blasted inside her chest, each nerve ending sharpened to a tip. _I love the way being with you makes me feel,_ is what she wanted to say, but she just stared at him, watching him reading her.

“I feel it Scully,” Mulder said, piercing the darkness. “And it scares me too.” He shifted onto his back, putting an arm behind his head. “When I was in Violent Crimes, I wore a wedding ring for a time. When I was on a case it made it easier if I wasn’t distracted and it kept the women in the office at bay.”

“Beating them off with a stick, were you?” Scully said with a smile.   
  
“Like I was saying, I was concentrating on cases, I-I was looking for my sister, even back then. And I’d wear this ring.” 

“Where’d you get it from?”

“It was my father’s, a symbol of what used to be. A symbol of my family.” Mulder paused, studying Scully’s reaction. He gently reached for the cross around her neck, massaging it between two fingers. “Well, it grew on me. You wear jewelry, like your cross, it becomes a part of you.” He stared back up at the ceiling. “Anyway, I took it off when I started going out with Diana, but all these years later, it still feels like a severed limb.”

“Because of your sister.”

His dark eyes pierced into her. “Because I lost my family.” 

Scully laid her hand down over his stubble, her thumb lightly stroking at the apple of his cheek. 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50233059826/in/dateposted/)

***

_Penguins marched over the edge of a glacier. Scully watched them tumble like the cardboard ducks you shoot at a midway. She ran to the edge and stepped into the water to save them, but the sea was boiling, and she couldn’t proceed. Helpless, she watched on, the happy penguins, drifted out to sea towards an island. Scully squinted. In the distance she could see a house, with a dog running outside, a man on the porch. She couldn’t see his face, but yet she felt like she knew him. One of the penguins walked onto the beach and handed a baby to the man. He looked up, waved at Scully, holding the baby out to her. She didn’t know how, but she knew, that was her husband, her baby, her child playing on a swing. She wanted to swim to them, but the water was too hot. A noise distracted her. Mulder, with pictures in hand, rambling on about a mutant. Then Scully noticed, Mulder was bleeding from the ears. The blood flowed, thickly painting the ice like cherry snow cones. Mulder was already pale and fading._

_Scully panicked, the island was floating farther away, the penguins were frantic now, waving her to the island, flapping their wings wildly, a deafening noise. She looked back at Mulder. He was trying to hand her the photographs. Then back at the island, the man ushering her kids inside the house. Scully suddenly couldn’t breathe, suffocating under Mulder’s requests. Still, she made her decision and ran to Mulder, ripping the sleeves off her shirt, wrapping his head, trying to slow the bleeding. She pulled him into a hug, and when she turned back everything else was gone. Just barren land. She looked back at Mulder and he started to cackle, smoke billowing from his throat. “You lose. You get nothing,” Mulder hissed in the smoking man’s voice._

Scully woke in a shout, drenched in sweat, breathing hard, her heart pounding.. Mulder still sound asleep next to her.

  
  


**Sunday Morning**

“I’m going to go back to my apartment and get ready for the flight,” Mulder said, fully dressed and showered, gallantly standing at her door.

“Wait,” Scully said, noticing his crooked collar, his tie riding up in the back. She walked over and fixed it. Their eyes locked as she flattened it, caressing his chest as he tightened the knot. She felt his kiss even though one never came. 

“I’ll see you on the flight,” Mulder said softly, his hazel sea dulling to moss. The diamonds that shone in the darkness hidden in the cruel light of day.

“Yes,” Scully replied, already craving their light. “See you there.”

  
  


**Hours later on the plane, Dulles Airport**

“Hey,” Mulder said with a smile that could have lit up half of Hollywood. 

Scully smiled back, putting her carry-on in the overhead bin. 

When she sat, Mulder was waiting with puckered lips which she avoided with the case file. “Read it on the way, sounds like we have our work cut out for us.”

Scully locked in her belt and laid her arm on the seatrest. Mulder mimicked her, covering her hand and giving it a squeeze. She quickly pulled it away. This flight was on the company’s dime and she needed to pull back on the reigns. They were two people that worked together. Friends. “We’re on a case, Mulder.”

Over the P.A. the pilot sounded, “Flight attendants prepare for take-off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The symptoms the doctor gives Mulder are the actual symptoms of someone experiencing Mulder's type of illness. Penguins in a dream can represent meeting the right person or following the right path.


	8. A Guy, A Girl, and A Cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are post "First Person Shooter" and getting ready for the last of the IVF. Mulder is running late with his donation to the cause.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50249736542/in/dateposted/)

Post [FPS]

“What’s this Mulder?” Scully asked, pilfering a folded 8x11 photograph off of the bedspread while he packed. 

Mulder reached over and plucked it from her hands tucking it into his breast pocket. “That’s for later. A little visual aid.”

“Miss Afterglow,” Scully stated, folding her arms and squinting her eyes at him disapprovingly. 

“I don’t see you lending any help to the cause,” he said, stuffing his t-shirts and boxer briefs into this suitcase, folding them carefully to fit them all in.

“Cutting it rather close to the deposit deadline?” Scully asked, helping him by packing up his toiletries. 

“The case ran over what I thought it would.”

“Playing a  _ video game _ ran longer than you thought it would,” Scully corrected.

Mulder made a face and picked up his cell to contact the lab. Scully listened to a very worrisome conversation that ended with him jabbing his finger against his cell with all the force of a threatened Rhino. 

“By the time we land, I’m not going to have enough time to get there and do what I need to do before the office closes. But, if I can collect it on the way and get it there before seven, the lab will still be available to do the fertilization.”

Scully frowned. “How? You don’t have a sterilized container?”

“I can stop at one of the labs over here and pick one up. It can’t be older than one hour so I’ll have to do it once we land. Do not worry, I’ll get it done.”

They raced to the lab in Los Angeles, then back to the airport with the sterilized container tucked in the carryon. Through security and on the plane, Scully was calculating how much time he had from the time the plane landed to the D.C. lab. 

The flight attendant came by and thrust the open garbage bag Scully’s way. She tossed her cup into it and rolled her eyes. It was obvious to Scully their earlier exchange had caused a riff in the flight attendant/passenger relationship. She just thought asking Mulder the location of his home base was mildly inappropriate and she let her know. To take it out on her snack choice, claiming there were no bags of pretzels left when she could clearly see them, proved to Scully, she was correct and didn’t deserve the knowing grin plastered to Mulder’s face. 

“Everything all right?” Scully asked him as they prepared for landing. 

“Yeah. It would be quicker if I filled it in the car on the way. You could drive..”

“On the way? Mulder, your penis has to be thoroughly cleaned and they need the entire contents of the ejaculate, so if it spills..”

“Yeah, too risky. I’ll just do it in the airport while you get the car. That is unless you are interested in helping me join the mile high club?”

“Those bathrooms are disgusting. Sanitary nightmares.”

“Well, when we land, you get the rental car and I’ll find a bathroom.” He must have read her expression because then he added, “Not the ideal way you might want to look back on it, but I’m quickly running out of options.”

Scully followed the plan, racing to the rental place, checking in and then hurrying to their meeting location. Her heart fell into her throat when she saw the disappointment on his face. Did he drop it? Did her last chance get flushed down the drain? “Mulder, what’s wrong?”

Mulder shook his head. “It’s not working.”

“What do you mean it’s not working?”

“ _ It _ . Is not. Working.”

“Oh.  _ It’s _ not working.”

“I think I might need some help.”

On a normal day, Scully wouldn’t cave for Mulder’s antics, but the look on his face was telling her he was desperate. “Okay, how can we do this without getting arrested?”

They started walking, passing newsstands and souvenir shops, restaurants. Mulder stopped and looked at Scully. “Aren’t McDonald’s restrooms famous for being clean? I think they have an actual door where people can’t walk by and see me.”

“Go. I’ll be outside.” 

Scully stood waiting outside the men’s room with arms crossed wondering how he got himself into these things realizing he was a victim of his own device. Minutes later, Mulder resurfaced. “Still not working. I need you to help.”

“Mulder, I don’t know what…. In there?” He nodded enthusiastically and she sighed. “Fine.” 

She waited until he gave her the sign for the coast being clear and snuck into the men’s room. “You’re right, McDonald’s restrooms  _ are _ surprisingly clean,” she said, looking around at the tile covered floor, wall, and ceiling.

“Scully, we don’t have much time.”

“Fine.” She closed the door and they squeezed together in the stall. A tight fit for the two of them. Mulder towering over her, she got easily lost in his sports jacket. The scent of his body was delicious, but overpowered by the smell of disinfectant and ass. It threatened to release the coke Scully drank on the plane. Maybe not having pretzels on the flight was a blessing.

Mulder fumbled around undoing his belt and whipping out the goods. This did seem a little pathetic. Scully wrapped her hand around it and finally understood what was meant by the term wet noodle. She squeezed and massaged, trying to stare into his eyes and calm him. It wasn’t working.

“Maybe if you didn’t squeeze so hard,” Mulder said, squirming. “And don’t dig your fingernails. It’s not play doh.”

“You never had complaints before,” Scully said and raised her right eyebrow. “I’m doing the best I can.”

Mulder sighed. “I know.” He looked down at himself and two deep lines formed between his brow. “Maybe we could try kissing?”

She reached up on her toes and met his lips, feeling the immediate high from his testosterone. As he cupped and squeezed her breasts over her shirt, he thickened and in her hand felt like the beginnings of an overripe cucumber. It was nice, but not enough to achieve an orgasm. “You’re thinking about this too much,” she mumbled against his mouth.

A door creaked open and clicked closed. The shuffling of feet. “This is a lot of pressure,” he replied, pulling away.

“We  _ could _ get the sample if you allow me to massage your prostate.”

“Is that what we’re going to tell the kid when they ask how they came to be? Your mother stuck her finger up my ass in a public restroom and you came flying out?”

“That is not how babies are made, Mulder.”

They heard the guy in the next stall giggle. Mulder gritted his teeth. “You know what I mean. I-I can’t do this like this.” Mulder, fumbling to zip up and buckle his belt, opened the stall door and walked out. A man washing his hands passed Scully a strange look in the reflection of the mirror. 

She followed Mulder out. “Mulder where are you going?” she called out trying her best to catch up to him. 

“I’m going to the Admirals club to get a drink,” he replied. She could hear the disgust in his voice. 

Scully looked at the time. It was at least a 40 minute ride to the lab with traffic. Mulder had a little less than an hour left before they had to leave to get it there in time. She had already made up her mind that one way or another, she was getting that sperm from him.

She followed him into the admiral’s club and sat next to him at the bar. She ordered a seltzer with lime and Mulder ordered a beer and a shot. “I haven’t been drinking and I’ve been taking my vitamins and antibiotics if you’re wondering.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“What if it works, Scully? What if today, a child is created. And my part in this is to jerk off in a gas station bathroom. It didn’t register the first time, but when I was in that bathroom, staring into the plastic jar..”

Scully took Mulder’s hand. “Mulder, your part in this is so much more than filling a plastic container. I want your DNA for the other half of my child. Everything you’re doing and everything you’ve done, I will never not be grateful and appreciative for. I can’t express how important and essential your part is to all of this and not just because I need the sperm. I need you Mulder. I need you and me.”

Mulder ran a thumb over the webbing of her hand and looked into her eyes. His hand came to claim her cheek and she kissed the palm. His eyes fell, absorbing the electric current. He pulled back into her gaze. She leaned into him and into his arms, her lips dropping to lean against his clavicle. This time she closed her eyes. She breathed in his cologne. He was the most intoxicating thing she had ever smelled. 

There was something unique in all the world the way their hearts beat, how they loved each other unapologetically right down to their souls, a sacred bridge between their minds, pure and genuine, complete, and in that moment she felt the draw of her body towards his. Her hand slid from his neck down his chest and it lingered. Softly, they slowly pulled away, her lips cascading over the smoothness of his neck, their cheek brushing the other's, his stubble coarse against her smooth skin. Her lips slightly parted in awe of her feelings, strong and raw and paralyzing. The side of her nose grazed his and she paused. She was less than an inch from his lips. Their breaths mingled. She felt their magnetic pull. Her heart stopped. She held her breath and her eyes closed. The universe’s ever expanding fire and light, from inside atoms to galaxies, the power all captured in one press of the lips. 

Mulder pulled back, but she could see in his eyes what she felt was shared. He took a drink of his beer and her hand dropped to his thigh, delicately dancing where no one else could see. He was ready. “There’s a really nice restroom in the back, isn’t there?” Scully asked, taking a sip of her seltzer and leaving a tip. “If I remember correctly, I believe it has a couch, soft music, chandelier, even candles. Maybe you can escort me?”

Mulder coughed, choking on his beer and smiling. “Yeah-yes. I, uh, suddenly have the urge too. This drink went right through me.” 


	9. You Do Keep Me Guessing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are post Theef and entering into the last scene of Per Manum. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and I really hope you enjoy this chapter.

[Post Theef]

The blood test didn’t lie. Her levels had been elevated, but not high enough to draw conclusions. She had tested her own blood twice with the same results. The only way to tell for sure would be the ultrasound. She could feel the dread surge up inside and tried her best to force it back down. Until she had something definitive there was no reason to involve Mulder and have them both getting their hopes up. 

Scully walked into the basement office in time to see Mulder packing up. Given the disarray of papers, slides, and the like, it wasn't easy to distinguish the bundle he was choosing to take home with him. 

“Leaving early?” Scully asked.

“Actually,” Mulder replied, picking out the last chosen few papers for him to carry out. “I’m leaving for North Carolina. They placed the gravestone for my mother and I wanted to make sure everything is correct and put down some flowers. I know that’s what she would want.”

“I would go with you, but I have my doctor’s appointment on Saturday,” Scully replied.

“It’s this Saturday.”

“You forgot.”

“I didn’t forget the date, I just didn’t realize it was this Saturday.” Mulder tapped his stack of papers on the desk. “I’ll go to North Carolina next week.” 

“No. It’s not necessary. Honestly Mulder, I’ll be fine.” 

Mulder wanted to tell her that he wanted to be a part of all this, but he also didn’t want to add to her pressures so he added, “I’ll be back late Saturday afternoon.”

Scully nodded. “I should be back from the appointment by then. We’ll meet at my apartment.”

Mulder tucked his files under his arms and avoided Scully’s eyes. “It’s a date.”

*

The ground still soft around the gravestone, Mulder busily brushed away the leaves and sticks. _Mom should have a clean ground_ , he thought. Planting the fresh flowers he found cathartic, as if his mother was kneeling beside him. The methodical nature brought a sense of tranquility. Mulder stood over the grave. His parents had been buried together per their wishes. The peace and forgiveness they couldn’t find in life, perhaps would come to them in death. Samantha’s name carved with them. The mark of a dwelling where no one was home, but just because bones laid in a casket did not make them present either. 

They were a family once again for the first time since the abduction, committed in stone. Mulder prayed to the celestial beings that it may not be lies. He gazed upward, squinting at the sky as he heard the promises of the sallow sun over dark clouds. Might their sacrifice, their identity not be forgotten. A promise to be broken upon his own death. An inevitability with no heirs to pass their history. 

Raw emotion swelled inside and he felt so cold as the tears trailed down. There was a time when they were happy. When they could pass for a family if for nothing else but on canvas. His tears fell to join them in the soil. He couldn’t save them. He couldn’t even save himself. 

Which reminded him. Mulder looked at his watch. If he was going to make his appointment he had to get going.

***

“What we have been studying and developing is a method to induce adult cells to de-differentiate into pluripotent stem cells. Working concurrently with the Kobe Medical Center in Japan we are currently testing the technology which we now refer to as IPS or induced pluripotent stem cells.”

As Mulder listened, he considered the doctor’s posture, his mannerisms. Militant. Every action, precise and purposeful. A smile that was distant. Could he be trusted? What was his true agenda?

Meanwhile, the doctor continued, “With these stem cells we will cure many illnesses and mutations that would have been a death sentence in the past. I am confident that with a complete course of treatment we can vastly improve your life expectancy.”

Mulder’s hands gripped the arms of the chair like an infant reaching for their blanket. Mulder was used to being alone, but he never felt more so than he did now. “But this is not proven science.”

“We have only begun human testing. You could be a candidate for the next set of trials.”

“And if I have a child?”

“We can use the amniotic fluid and the placenta to extract the stem cells. The probabilities for success would be significant with the use of the stem cells.”

“But my disease, if you cured it, I would be the first.”

“Yes. Especially since it is considered undiagnosed.”

“I have no symptoms. I’m only here because my doctor left me a very convincing message on my cell phone and I happened to be in the area.”

“You’re here which means you’re still searching. We provide answers.”

Mulder tightened his lip and nodded, getting up from the chair. “Thank you for meeting with me. I’ll consider the option.”

Before heading home, Mulder stopped at the florist to set up a monthly delivery. His mother and sister deserved beauty in their resting place. Several times during the drive he felt the sadness rise up, filling the voids, the emptiness, with beautiful wonderous pain. It wasn’t until he reached city limits that he felt the pull of Scully and headed to her apartment.

It was early when he got there and Scully was still at her appointment. The place, so immaculate, he was almost afraid to touch anything for fear he would tarnish it by his mere fingerprints or possibly knock something over and break it. It didn’t stop him though. He handled almost all her knick knacks trying to imagine why she might have bought them or if they were received as a gift or inherited. Even though he hadn’t eaten, he had no appetite. He wasn’t interested in turning on the television; he found the silence soothing. So he waited on the couch and let his thoughts take over.

***

Scully felt outside her body as the doctor gave her the results. She sat stoically and nodded her head as he spoke to her about levels and numbers she had seen with her own tests. There was no heartbeat. That was it. It was over. Driving home was a foggy haze now that she had her answer. Trapped in purgatory just like she was on that boat in her coma years ago. She still had the oars but now she lacked the strength. The old wooden dinghy drifting at the mercy of the moon and the wind that gusted around her. Yesterday was hope and promise and now she was at the mercy of the currents, bobbing in waves.The lapping across the bow a ticking clock marking down her life rapidly fading, narrowing to a career of shadows and monsters. Battling wars from inside. She was angry at them for what they did, what they took from her, but more than that she was angry at herself for the choices she made to allow them to do it. She felt like a failure, almost embarrassed to tell him, she had allowed herself to be abducted by a lunatic, allowed herself to be imprisoned by men who took parts of not only her body and her life, but her future away from her. She wanted to scream and fight, but there was only a mirror at the end of the dark dingy tunnel. The misery was inside. If she allowed it to break her soul, wouldn’t she then relinquish all control? She wished Mulder wasn’t at her apartment, she wasn’t ready to face him, but she knew he would be. Waiting. Like Schrodinger’s cat, for him she was both pregnant and barren simultaneously. Held in suspended animation. With the click of a door she would change all of it. 

***

Scully’s apartment had a comforting hominess to it that quieted Mulder’s brain, reminding him that he had little rest the past few days. He soon drifted off to sleep waiting for the results, and dreaming of a life that would never be. Scully’s key going into the lock startled him awake. His initial excitement had him hopeful and glad she was home, but the defeated expression quickly drained him. “Scully? I must have dozed off. I was waiting for you to get back.” He saw her face, read her emotions, felt them in his own chest. “It didn’t take, did it.”

Looking into her eyes, he saw the truth of her torment and she quickly diverted them to the floor. “I guess it was too much to hope for.”

He reached for her and she fell into his arms. At his touch, her emotions spilled. How could his body betray him at a time when she needed him so badly?

“It was my last chance,” she managed to get out through her tears currently marking his soul.

For her he would find a way, they would find a way, she would have a child and he would transcend death. “Never give up on a miracle.”

He hugged her again with eyes closed. The heat of her soft cheek was at his neck then slowly, her lips. It was enough to pull him out of his own head. Scully was beautiful even through the sorrow that had befallen their lives. He loved every curve and line, appreciated and proud of her brilliance and prowess. Scully’s eyelids fluttered and he was on fire. His heart ached and he felt alive, his synapses firing on all cylinders. Then his brain stopped as he pressed his lips to hers. Scully’s lips parted. He could feel her chest rising and falling against his own in an increasingly rapid pace and his hands slid down her sides to settle at the small of her back. Her hands covered his cheeks and he pulled back enough to look into her eyes. They begged at him not to leave her alone to fight with her demons. To make her feel against the paralyzing numbness of the darkness.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” Scully said, still in his arms, in a breathless voice that drove him half crazy. She was asking him to mask a pain he could barely endure, yet the mere act of holding her made him feel a normalcy that he wanted to cling to, desperately.

“Scully.” He spoke softly, searching her face. “I-”

Her eyes closed and her lips pressed to his, taking his breath and thought. She laced their hands and led him to her bedroom. 

“I’m going to take a shower, wait for me?” she asked when they got there.

“Of course.” He pressed his sweaty palms to his thighs needing to calm himself down. She had just come from the doctor and he was allowing himself to be carried away by his emotions. 

Mulder toed off his shoes and lifted his shirt, stripping down to his boxers, tossing his clothes on the nearby chair.

He drifted to dreamland, waiting for Scully and woke to her muted cries. Her back was to him, but with the soft touch of his hand, she turned. The look she gave him made his heart wrench.

“We’ll find a way,” he assured her, hugging her close. Scully settled against his chest, her ear over his heart, and slowly her breathing evened out. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head as she slept soundly in his embrace. While he lay awake, he willed himself not to rouse her. to make love to her. It was so hard when everything he wanted was curled up in his arms. Except they were not the same as before, they had crossed a line, and to go back to what? That this all never happened? That the last months they hadn’t been trying to have a baby? And what about Scully? Would this finally break her? He wanted to make her whole, he wanted to give her the impossible. 

Scully woke a little after midnight, the room silent and dark with not even moonlight to shine through the blinds. Mulder felt her stir against his chest and sent a kiss to her forehead. His mind raced; he wanted to fix this for her. But, and it was a big but, everything inside him was telling him to slow down.

With watery eyes Scully met his gaze. Never in his life had he wanted someone more than he wanted her now, to give her everything he had, and never had he understood the importance of holding back. 

“You’ve always been here for me, Mulder,” Scully said quietly. “And you’ve never given up.”

“I’d never give up on you Scully,” he smiled, brushing his fingers along her jaw, then down along her slender neck. 

She ventured closer, tight enough for her breasts to rub against his chest. “I’ve always liked the way it feels when you touch me.”

“Me too,” Mulder said softly. He felt them stepping into very unsteady ground and he couldn’t bring himself to put distance between them.

Her eyes looked at him with the vulnerability of a fawn licking dew off a rose petal. Her voice whisper-soft, like she had to will her body to even speak. He felt her light touch graze up his side and his body tightened “I want to know what it’s like to be with you, Mulder, and this time, I don’t want us to hold back.” 

His mouth went dry and his heart beat with the force of a blacksmith’s hammer as her eyes fluttered shut and her lips parted. She released the sexiest little sigh and that was all it took for all his defenses to give way. The hand that had been resting on her shoulder was now fisted in her hair, his tongue boldly stroking past her parted lips as his mouth crushed down on hers. His jaw and tongue working to thrust against her over and over, mimicking the strokes with his hips. 

Scully’s arm tightened around his neck and Mulder moaned. Their kiss slowed, passionately, before Scully returned to his gaze with hooded eyes, the color in them always reminding Mulder of the sky right before the sun disappeared, that crystal clear blue of a tropical ocean shimmering, crashing, and churning. Looking into them he could almost hear the waves falling against the shore, foam flying in the salty air. And the way she stared, with need, with desire, with the fire that burned all others. It touched his heart like the finest silk. He could live infinite lifetimes and still want the woman behind those eyes. 

Scully unbuttoned her gray satin night shirt, removing it from her body, and as she did, he ran his hand along her bare arm. Her skin beneath his fingers soft to his touch, goosebumps rising in the wake of his hand as he reached the pulse points of her wrist, leaving it with a light kiss. 

Her remaining nightwear disappeared like a whisper carried away by a soft breeze, while Mulder slid his hand up her ribs just below her breasts, increasing her breath. They traveled down her spine to her thighs towards softer skin. He leaned in to meet her lips, and she bent her knee sliding it over his leg, entwining their limbs as his hands slid higher up her thigh until his fingers met her slick arousal. An uncontrollable groan rumbled through his chest and she pressed closer, her thigh rubbing against the fabric of his boxers and brushing his erection. Her body quivering against him.

“Mulder,” she moaned into his mouth, and desire rushed through him. He felt her petite hands tug at his boxers and he helped her remove them, a surge of nerves hitting him harder than his first time with a woman. Scully rolled to her back, her hands roaming over his body, urging him to follow. Before he resigned to her request, his eyes roamed her body. He loved her curves, the feel of her underneath him, the feel of the slide of his hand from her neck to her breasts, the way her nipples hardened at his touch, the dip at her waist, the rise of her hips, the curve of her behind. 

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Mulder asked, his voice shaky, his cells screaming to join with hers.

“Yes, I need this Mulder. I need you.” There was co-dependence in abundance tonight because he needed her too. 

With eyes locked in an embrace, Mulder pushed tenderly inside, careful to give her body time to accept him. Slowly, attentively and delicately he pushed deeper still, until they were completely joined. She pulsed around him and he felt himself grow harder. She was warm, plush, and unmistakably real.

“Scully,” he said, a hard line between his brow. He tenderly brushed the hair from her face and stared into her eyes pretending that this didn’t mean everything to him.

“It’s okay, Mulder,” Scully said apologetically.

“Hm?” She had stumped him with that response. 

“You’re not moving, I thought maybe… you were _too_ excited..”

Mulder chuckled and stroked her hair. “No, no, I just.. I’m cementing this into my memory. I’m never going to forget this moment, Scully.”

Her face softened and he saw the affection in her eyes as he felt her clench around him. A burst of pleasure made him groan, but he didn’t break their gaze. 

Moving as their need took over, they picked up a soft slow rhythm. Her eyes drifted closed and he dropped his hand between them, pressing two fingers firmly against her clit. They moaned together, his fingers matching the pace to his slide, gradualing moving faster, their mouths joining, their tongues writhing against the other. Mulder felt himself falling deeper inside her slick tight walls as they pushed and throbbed against his cock. He relished every sensation Scully created inside his body, and cherished every one he manifested inside hers.

“Mulder,” she moaned. It was all she said, but the vibration against his lips tugged at his heart. Her hips moved faster after that and his fingers slid into circles. They shared one breath, pants ending in short moans; and he swallowed them down in large gulps. Nothing could spear him with more desire than the sight of her face filled with passion, her eyes darkening to cobalt, every pulse of her walls calling him. 

Just when he thought he had reached a pinnacle, Scully kissed him hard, circling her hips, then bucking against him, tightening her walls. It felt like a celestial being had carried him through the pearly gates. His smile deepened against her mouth and he closed his eyes to feel her and thrusted faster, his abs gliding along her chest as he tilted his hips to increase the pressure on her front wall.

“Scully,” he cried, his voice breaking with every bit of the emotion his heart was pouring out; this was more than fate or destiny, this was a choice the two of them made long ago when the stars took shape and the big bang clustered and spread out to the heavens to shine. 

They were moving so fast and he felt so hard he thought they might shatter. He braced his arm on the bed and when Scully turned to tenderly kiss the quivering muscle on his forearm, he felt his balls draw up, his cock swell to the brink, her walls stretching, surrounding and pounding hot as they cradled him. 

The orgasm was intense, rushing and exploding through every cell, curling his fingers, lighting his brain, straightening his toes. Her eyes captured his and he shouted out all the sensation from the rapid explosions from years of coiled tension releasing. 

He kissed her lips, his tongue dancing along hers, as he held her body, pumping the last of him inside her. He thrusted a few more times before the pleasure was overcome, doused in oversensitive nerves. He groaned out her name as he pulled out, keeping her in his arms as they caught their breath.

“You didn’t, did you,” he said, the thought hanging heavy on his chest.

She shook her head and opened her mouth to protest, certain she’d say something to the effect that it was okay or it was only their first time, but he wouldn’t hear any of it. This was Scully, and although Mulder might leave her stranded with a Bounty Hunter in the middle of nowhere, he wasn’t leaving her when it came to this. 

His fingers ran reverently down the length of her body, skirting the edges of each breast to her sex. Scully shook beneath him, releasing tiny erotic moans that clouded his mind. He kissed between her breasts, running his tongue along the valley as he watched pleasure overtake her. By the time he reached the inside of her thigh, her legs were open and inviting. He had the clearest angle of her, beautiful, glistening, and swollen. He dipped his head and took the first taste- Sweet and perfect, making his sensitive cock tingle again. It didn’t bother him what it had just been mixed with, that might have even excited him more. 

Scully watched as he licked down between her folds and she moaned low and long, “Mulder.” He had always loved the way she said his name, but he worshiped the way she said it now. Like she owned it in her soul. The way it pumped through her veins and built it in her muscles sent his own blood pumping. 

He ran his tongue languidly to the tip of her opening and back, and her fingers curled in his hair, her legs closed around his head, and her back arched. He sucked harder and her hands pulled at his hair, bucking, writhing against his mouth. It all made his heart surge and he directed that love to her sex, lapping her wet senstive clit with his tongue, his jaw sensually moving to allow his lips to kiss and caress each fold. Her hips rocked steadily, allowing her to rub hard against his tongue. He felt her swell and tighten, her neck extended and her head flung back, her eyes closed. Mulder thought she looked exquisite, taking another mental photograph for his collection. 

“Oh God, Oh, God,” she said in a crescendo of what almost sounded like panic. Mulder wanted to remind her that it wasn’t God’s tongue working her into madness and aching to make her come. “Oh God, Oh my God, Mulder.” There it was. Her thighs tightened and locked him in place as her clit pulsed between his lips and against his tongue. Mulder’s air flow was limited from the herculean strength of her thighs, but he kept going, enjoying how hard she was coming and how openly. As he slid back up she wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her slick naked form against his own.

He didn’t want to deal with any of what was to come, he wanted to stay with her in their magic cocoon. He kissed her forehead and moved off her before heading to the adjoining bathroom to clean up. When he returned, neither of them said a word as he crawled into bed behind her, pulling the covers around them like he was sealing up their sleeping bag. He wrapped her into him, spooning their bodies together. She took his hand and held it tight under her cheek as she fell asleep.

***

The first of the sun’s rays made their way across the wall of the bedroom, skittering the room in a soft glow and Scully’s arms clung to Mulder just a little tighter, almost afraid to let go of him.

Scully never thought being with someone could feel as amazing as it did, and she wanted nothing more than to slide her leg over Mulder to feel that way again. Inside she ached and outside she squirmed against him. She felt his arms move around her waist and tighten. “Mulder, I want you,” she whispered, hardly believing the passion in her own voice. 

“I want you,” he murmured in return. 

He guided her movement, holding her hips as she straddled him. She gasped as her leg reached around him and she felt him bob against her core. They locked eyes. Slowly, she wrapped her hand around his long thick shaft, lowering herself down, burning her walls as she willed them to mold to him, feeling deliciously filled by _him_ . _Mulder_ . It was _Mulder’s_ hands on her breasts, _Mulder’s_ cock she slid wetly over and _Mulder_ that sat up to kiss her with enough devotion to send her panting and groaning, forcing the coil to tighten deep inside. Scully rode him, planting her hands tightly on his shoulders, feeling every movement of his cock inside her, driving so deep she could feel it in the back of her throat. The thought of Mulder and him alone made her come, spilling over onto him in waves of pulsing madness. She felt him take over and thrust rapidly up into her, prolonging her orgasm, melting every taut muscle into a molten pool of satisfaction while his own orgasm pumped hotly into her. Like vines and branches they intertwined, his scent now all around, torturing her, triggering the most intense of connections.


	10. Irrevocable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is around "En Ami". No baby daddy drama or mysterious nurses, just how it relates to their relationship. We're at the very beginning where life gets interesting. Mulder has rejected his diagnosis and I will get into why he is not exhibiting any symptoms in later chapters. The very last of Scully's chances at IVF are over. A couple weeks have passed and they are ignoring that they ever had sex or that they even tried IVF. They're bottling their feelings and trying to deal with everything independently, but something has got to give.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I have to make up a scenario of what happened to Scully while under the Smoking Man's care, for this fic I'll make up something different than my last one. We know he knew how to operate those chips and was lying to her. That was all to kill that guy because he wanted to be a whistle blower and get the truth out. We also know John Locke the Super Soldier was spying on Scully and reporting back to him that they were having sex. Since the IVF failed, CSM decided to go a different route, activated her chip to get her to produce possibly ova left inside her that had not matured during the abduction, and injected her with his science, some alien DNA, that might attach to the fertilized egg. His last chance at ruling the world after the original plans failed. Thus making him the creator and "father". In his hubris denouncing the capabilities of Mulder. At least this is what CSM believed was happening. He knows better than to underestimate Mulder, but that's for a different chapter. I always liked this episode, because it is grotesque to think of Scully spending any time with him, but I love Mulder being frantic and disappointed and I love Scully being sneaky and a little reckless. Before CC ruining this episode, I liked how incredibly evil CSM was, he has great lines, and his expressions are priceless. Before the Revival I thought of him as the greatest villain of all time. Now make no mistake, I'm as disgusted by him as you are, but that's the point. He's supposed to be vile and repulsive and cunning and hated. That's what makes a great villain.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50316560271/in/dateposted/)

Bacon sizzling. Her apartment filled with the smell and had Scully salivating. She opened her eyes and realized she had actually drooled on her pillow. The sheets on the other side were crumpled, but the bed was empty. Mulder was cooking. Scully tried not to smile, but she really couldn’t help herself. It almost felt like a dream,-too real to be real- but as she stepped in the shower and the hot water cascaded down her body, her sore muscles ached out the markings of Mulder’s path. It had been quite a night and very little of it was spent sleeping.

Dressed, Scully came into the kitchen and snagged a piece of the bacon. Salty and crisp, cooked to perfection. Mulder turned with the pan of scrambled eggs and scooped them up to carefully lay an equal amount in each dish. 

“You got up too early.” He looked up at her and smiled sheepishly. “I was going to make you breakfast in bed.”

Scully poured herself some coffee and sat down, taking an approving sip. She raised an eyebrow. “You want me to go back to bed?”

The corner of his mouth raised. “Well, yeah, but not for bacon and eggs.”

Scully ignored him, although his words resonated sharply in her chest, and concentrated on eating her breakfast. Who knew Mulder knew how to cook breakfast? He surprised her every day. Mulder sat down beside her and started eating. The air between them was thick and alive. Every time their eyes met she felt their connection, only now it was concentrated into electrified intense explosions in her chest.

“You have plans today?” Mulder asked, grabbing the last piece of toast and using it to sop up his remaining eggs.

“I’m having lunch with my mother,” Scully replied solemnly, fidgeting in the chair and sending a fiery lock behind her ear. “I have to tell her. She knew I went through the procedures. It’s not a conversation I’m looking forward to.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Mulder, I’m capable of telling her.”

“I know that.” He looked at his watch. “What time am I picking you up?”

*

Scully’s heels clicked loudly against the uneven pavement approaching her mother’s house. It was a cool day, yet Mulder had perspiration beading along his hairline. “Are you nervous?” she asked. 

Mulder released a humored breath and pressed in the button to ring the bell. “Your mother and I are friends, what would I be nervous about?”

Not to anyone’s surprise, Maggie’s face glowed and her smile grew extra wide at the sight of Mulder. “Fox, how good of you to come,” she spurted merrily.

Scully helped Maggie serve lunch while Mulder squirmed in his chair, slurping his tea and as Scully could see, trying his best not to break anything. On their second trip to the kitchen and Mulder happily munching on a sandwich, Maggie cornered Scully between the sink and the drain rack. “So what brings the two of you here? Might there be some news?”

“Mom,” Scully started, but then cracked, not able to hold back the disappointment, “It didn’t take. I’m not going to be a mother.” Her mother had looked so excited that it almost broke Scully to see the features in her face fall and her shoulders slump. 

“Honey,” Maggie said, bringing her into her arms, letting her cry.

The ice maker thumped from the fridge alerting them to its presence and Scully sniffled. “I’m all right. I’ll be okay.” 

“Dana,” she said, as Scully backed away from their embrace. “You’re allowed to not be okay. How is Fox handling this? I’m here if either of you ever want to talk. It wouldn’t hurt to talk with a priest. Even a counsellor. There’s couples counseling..”

“Mom, mom,” Scully hugged her again. “Thank you. I know. Mulder and I don’t have that kind of relationship. We are good friends.”

“Dana, don’t be naive. You asked him to be the father of your child. He was preparing for that and now he has to accept that the outcome has changed. He’s not going to let on because he cares for you, because he’ll want to be strong for you, but he’s mourning too.”

Scully felt the wrath of her decisions needling its way inside. “I-I feel like I disappointed you. You’ll have no grandchildren from me.”

“Honey, I have grandchildren and it’s not to say that you will never have children. God will answer your prayers in ways you may not be able to imagine. Never give up on a miracle.”

Scully squinted and tilted her head slightly. “That’s the same thing Mulder said to me.”

“He’s a wise man, Dana. You should listen.” Maggie lifted the tray of freshly baked cookies and headed out to the dining room. “Let’s go, we’re being rude.”

Maggie poured the coffee and Mulder snagged two cookies. “Mrs. Scully, this was incredible. I almost can’t eat another bite,” he said with his mouth full, the chocolate oozing from the corner of his lips. He wiped it with his pinky laughing at his eagerness, using a napkin to clean the rest off his face.

After dessert and idle conversation, they stood to leave, Scully hugged her mother and walked ahead to the car. Maggie pulled Mulder aside. “I know this is hard for you too. I know you wanted this baby.”

Mulder tightened his upper lip and his shoulders drooped giving the appearance of a bird nesting on a branch. “I want what’s best for Scully. Right now I’m just making sure she knows I’m here and I support her.”

“I know, Fox,” she said, rubbing his forearm, her warm touch providing solace. “You and Dana are very good at carrying your burdens, but no matter the arrangement, your heart was preparing for you to be a father.” 

His eyes burned. Looking into Maggie staring woefully at him everything seemed very real. The pain cutting through his heart and mind, demanding attention, stinging with every breath he took. 

If Scully couldn’t have a child, then neither could he. The onesies, the star mobile, and the soft yellow blanket would remain tucked in the back of his closet to gather layers of dust. Maggie held out her arms, he bent down to hug her and leaned his head on her shoulder. Her comforting hand stroked his hair and squeezed his back. Breathing in her Wind Song perfume he could almost hear the mediocre wedding band and feel the pain from pinched cheeks telling him how much he had grown. 

She pulled back with a reassuring smile. “Don’t let this get between the two of you, Fox. God is listening and he will provide.”

**Days Later..**

A few drops of crimson on cotton and Scully had to draw back tears. It should not have been a surprise. The natural result of her and Mulder’s attempts. The answer to a prayer. She knew it would arrive eventually, but even though she was expecting it, she wasn’t expecting its symbolism to hurt so much. She was at work, in a cold metal stall of the lady’s restroom. Her body trembled as she sucked in a breath and headed out. There was no reason to get upset anymore. There was nothing to be done. No baby. A future of great uncertainty. 

When she returned to the office, Mulder lifted his head away from his computer screen. “I’ve been researching reports of a vampiric witch roaming Olympic National Park.”

“Fangs and all?” Scully asked, suddenly amused, and relieved to send her mind elsewhere. That was what she needed, to focus on the work. “Acts like an ordinary person, has no discernible creature features,” Mulder explained and she could hear that underlying excitement. “At night, however,” Mulder said, putting a little sing song for dramatic effect at the end of his voice that put a smile on Scully’s face, “it prowls the graveyards in search of entrails so it can create a libation that allows it to shapeshift. If it cannot get the entrails it needs it hunts the bedrooms of the local townspeople.”

“And local law enforcement? What’s there take on this?”

Mulder picked up a pencil to twiddle between his fingers and propped his feet up on the corner of the desk. “Their take is it’s your run of the mill serial killer that is looking to distract everyone by imitating the myth.”

“Even if a vampire witch did exist, why would it need to shapeshift?”

Mulder sat up in his chair and leaned forward. “Those that believe, think it does so to combat being enslaved… by aliens.” 

Scully stopped reviewing her lab results and lowered the page to get a good look at Mulder to make sure he wasn’t putting her on. 

“I understand your doubts… and if you’re open to it, we could take a trip to Bali,” he suggested and Scully could see the emerald glow in his hazel eyes. “You could bring your snorkel and we could learn the roots of the lore.” Mulder rose from his chair to face her. He cupped her cheek and locked their eyes, gently swiping at the stain from one of the twin tears that had trickled down her face. “We can step away from this case if you’re not ready,” he said in low tones, “There’s another case within driving distance.”

Scully slowly shook her head and took a half step back out of his reach, her eyes lowering from his gaze. She stiffened. It was the first time they had touched since their night together. The first inkling either of them gave that anything at all had transpired between them or about their loss. With nothing left to do or say they just pushed forward. 

“There’s no need to travel to Bali. We’ll do both cases.” She joined his eyes only for a moment, raising the file in her hand. “I need to get these to the lab. There are further tests I’d like them to conduct and while I’m down there they asked for my help. Can you arrange our airfare?”

“Sure,” Mulder murmured with a concerned look on his face that almost made Scully sprint rather than walk out of the office. All she really needed right now was to work.

**Ten Days Later...**

“Will you be eating tonight?” Mulder asked, skulking around the back area of the office, rummaging through the cabinets. It was all very curious. Was he looking for something or hiding it?

“What? Yes, of course,” Scully answered, his questions as peculiar as his behavior. She walked over to where he was hovering and placed her notes from the last meeting in her drawer. His stare unnerved her, she could feel the pressure of his question like an overinflated balloon pressing against a bed of nails.

“I was thinking of ordering a pizza and I was thinking that I’ll probably have a few slices left over,” he said, cooly.

“I’m sorry, tonight is not a good night for me.” 

“Okay.” Mulder said, his bottom lip poked out past his top. “Another night.” He walked back to his desk and shook his mouse, taking the screen out of safe mode. Great, he was hurt.

“I’ve decided to start making healthier food choices,” she offered as an alternative excuse. It happened to be true. That and avoiding being with him alone at the late hours of the evening. 

“I can stop at the pet store on my way home. Pick up some rabbit food.”

He wasn’t giving up. She walked around his desk to hand him his summary notes and Mulder minimized his screen. A branding iron couldn’t have made her hotter then what he had been looking at. “No need to hide it. I saw the screen. Research?” she asked, tapping her foot with her hands at her hips.

He rotated the chair so he could look her dead in the eye, crossing his arms. “What if I can track down more vials? What if there is viable ova out there?”

She had been incorrect. A steam engine was hotter, and she could almost feel that steam rising from her ears. “And today you decide to pick up this crusade? You were there through everything that had happened with Emily and you never said a word.”

He ran a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head. “You’re right.”

“You took that chance away from me.” Red lightning filled her sclera, her irises burning hot blue flames. “Tell me Mulder, have you really asked yourself why you agreed to be my donor?”

Mulder bolted from the chair. His jaw rocked and he lurched forward as if to challenge, but then left the office with her standing there, alone, wrapped in a translucent blanket of uncomfortable silence. 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50316469548/in/dateposted/)

**That Night..**

Scully’s knuckles dropped three solid thuds against the hard wood. Against all judgement and possessed by what she didn’t know, Scully stood fidgeting, excuses at the ready. She reviewed her apology speech in her head hoping he would forgive her earlier cruelty. The heavy brass deadbolt clanked back into its shell and Mulder’s door rushed open. He initially looked surprised, but as their eyes met, the tension before was replaced with a new heat. Her heart ached from the distance she had created. She needed to feel their impenetrable bond every time their eyes met. He sent a hand through her hair and pulled her into the apartment, kicking the door closed with his foot. Her back slammed against it so hard she lost half her breath. The other half was taken by Mulder as he covered her mouth with his and sucked it away. His long thin muscled body hard against her. His tongue demanding the fire from her body. He tasted like midnight and shadows, mysterious and sublime. The smell of rain, thunder, gunpowder. The Darkness coated them, an old black and white played softly from the television, pulsing its hues around them. Their bodies so immediately intertwined and so caught up in passion the clothes on the lower half of her body peeled off almost by telepathy. The hasty sound of his zipper burned her with desire. With a swift thrust, he was inside her, her nails digging into the soft cotton fabric of his shirt, hoping to withstand the pleasure of his cock hard and heavy, reaching into the most salacious and esoteric parts of her. Mulder was so thick and long that when he pushed all the way into her, she could feel the tip brushing the end of her, demanding even more, while his hard pubic bone pounded against her clit sending shockwaves of its own. He grabbed the curve of her behind and drove steadily into her sleek, tight canal, undulating his hips with solid, rhythmic thrusts. Oh that luxurious wonderous cock. It stretched her wide, and she melded so tight around it. Like everything else on Mulder, lanky and strong-willed and needing of her attention. And what  _ she _ needed was their raw, rough, passionate connection to take her away from the peril and torment that had quickly become her life. 

Scully strained, desperate to thrust against him, to match his pace, but he had her pinned to the door. Mulder controlled the motion, controlled her pleasure, and she willingly surrendered, loving the devoted look in his eyes, the way his body shook in her arms as he did. The heat of their breaths filling the gaps between them, wrapping them inside a steamy cocoon. They were forgiving the other, caring and desperate to heal. What they both failed to express with words, their bodies could perfectly articulate; making it clear just how badly they yearned for one another. 

Mulder groaned, his fingers gripping hard into the flesh of her ass, pistoning in and out in a quick barrage of strokes. Without warning she skyrocketed to a peak, her muscles clenching and releasing in quick succession as she came hard around him. The sensations kept going, lingering, building again and Scully moaned aloud, the pleasure so intense, almost too much to take. A desperate sound that was almost a growl rose deep in Mulder’s throat and he quickly joined her. How she relished that feeling of him coming, the throbbing contractions at his base, vibrating his shaft to fill her hot and fast. 

He kissed her slowly, gently, his swollen lips brushing over hers again and again, pushing against them so his tongue could caress hers. A smile grew at the corners of his mouth as his lips softly departed. “Did you miss me?” he asked, smug and rhetorically. He headed to the bathroom and called out, “You’re not going to come and go, are you?”

Unbeknownst to him, Scully had already picked up the crumpled clothes at her feet and dressed. She wanted to say something, but she had nothing to say. She didn’t want to discuss it, she just wanted to leave. So she left, Mulder calling her name from the bedroom. She knew she was running from something she had to soon face, but what was she to tell him? That depression filled her the moment it was over until she was drowning in it? That the ineffectual absurdity of the act plummeted down like a cement block tethered to her ankle, sending her deeper towards the bottom until she was unable to see any daylight? The button of the elevator lit as her manicured nail caused it to recede. The floors denoted their names with each illuminated number and Scully’s shoe began to tap as if it might move it along. Nervously, she felt for her keys. When she didn’t feel the cold metal or hear their familiar jingle she checked her other pockets, over and over. Digging and patting. Shit. They must have fallen out on the floor in Mulder’s apartment. The hallway felt as if it had stretched walking back to number 42, her heels rapping a foreboding echo. The loud churning above the groaning radiator pipes she soon realized was the nerves of her stomach. 

The door not yet locked by Mulder, she turned the knob hoping to sneak them out, but Mulder poked his head from the kitchen. “I’m heading to bed, suddenly I’m feeling very drained,” he said, his tongue bulging the side of his right cheek.

Not quite sure how to proceed she followed him into the kitchen and watched him pour himself a glass of water from the faucet. Even though years had passed since his episode of grand hallucinations, he still hesitated right before he let it slide down his throat. He took another glass from the cabinet. “Water?”

Scully shrugged and Mulder filled it. The glass cool in her hand. He left her in the kitchen and paused before opening his bedroom door, turning his head to lock their eyes and send an irresistible electric pulse to her heart. “Coming?”

*

Scully woke to the rising and falling of Mulder’s chest against her back, their breaths falling naturally in unison. They were clasped to each other, Mulder sharing his body heat as easy as he shared his heart. Yet she felt like poison ivy covered her skin, and an invisible belt cinched at her neck. Lately, her eyes fluttered open in the mornings to his embrace or thoughts of him, his work dominated her, every opinion, hypothesis and theory, challenged and cross referenced by his own beliefs, and at night her body craved him, and in her dreams her mind played in a future it dared not venture in the light. Mulder had leaked in every crack and crevice of her life. 

Like a wolverine or stealth fighter jet, Scully stealthily snuck out of Mulder’s apartment without him stirring. By the time she drove across town and showered, she was already late. She picked out another turtleneck sweater, they were both tearing through their collections given their propensities to play Dracula on each other’s neck. Luckily there was never any exsanguinating, just a few bursted capillaries between good friends. Last night she didn’t recall either of them doing an imitation of a Hoover, but she preferred not to take her chances. Shuffling into her coat at 8:50am meant Mulder would have to cover for her if Skinner decided to request their assistance. Before even stepping into the hallway, a newspaper caught her eye. One she did not subscribe, but what grabbed her attention was the photograph and the article about God’s healing power. Down the hallway she scanned, but she was the only one blessed with the paper and no paperboy to thank.

Hours later, Scully returned to the office having met the miracle boy and his family, and the cigarette smoking man looking for a light and salvation. Mulder hadn’t returned, and most likely, if she had to guess, had gotten caught up with The Lone Gunman trying to trace the email address it all had originated from. That probably took them into who knows how many directions and conspiracies. She didn’t pick up the phone to dial Mulder and tell him of the experience she had this morning. Something stopped her. Was it that she wanted to deal with this issue without his overbearing perspective, or that she feared the Smoking Man might hold true to his threat of dying with the technology, or perhaps she was rebelling, their relationship smothering her as she struggled to understand how to live the rest of her life knowing now she would not bear children. 

Not wanting to deal with any of those possibilities, she picked up the phone. Then hung it up. That might not be wise to call him directly if it was a setup. Instead, she traced the number to see for herself where evil resided. 

The Smoking Man had not lied to her about Samantha being dead. Not this time around anyway. She believed him that he was dying after seeing him a few times. Was it that far fetched that at his deathbed he decided to leave those that remained a cure for cancer? Was it that unbelievable that he trusted her with the science and not Mulder? Armed with a wire and a need for her own answers she dialed the phone and left a message on Mulder’s machine full of half truths. It was a family emergency after all. She just didn’t say specifically which side of the family.

Mulder’s voice rang true into her answering machine, beckoning her with throaty emotion. It felt like utter betrayal to leave him in the lurch and plan a weekend getaway with his arch nemesis. It was almost like something outside of her body was driving her.

*

“Hello.” Mrs. Scully answered her phone and Mulder felt the pangs of dread if she didn’t know where Scully really was. The last thing he wanted to do was have her worrying, but he had to know.

“Mrs. Scully,” Mulder replied, “It’s Mu-Fox. How are you?”

“I’m just fine Fox, is everything okay? And please, call me Maggie.”

“Scully had left a message on my answering machine about a family emergency?”

“She did? That’s odd. No. I spoke with her two days ago. I asked her about you, did she tell you?”

“Not yet, but thank you. So you haven’t seen or spoken with Scully yesterday or today?”

“No. Do you think she is in trouble?”

“She didn’t answer her cell phone when I called, but she left a message on my answering machine saying she would be gone for a few days.”

“That is strange. She didn’t tell me anything about it. If I hear from her you’ll be the first to know.”

“It’s just not like her to lie to me.”

“It’s not another man, if that’s what you’re concerned about. There’s only you Fox.”

Mulder chuckled. “Thanks. My mind is at ease.”

“Just give her a little time, she’ll come around.”

“Okay, Maggie. Thanks.” 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50317139481/in/photostream/)

**Two Days Later..**

How could she be so naïve? Three whole days. No contact. To discover she willingly went with  _ him _ . Spent the night. His fists clenched against the steering wheel, he was a time bomb about to explode. He took a breath to calm himself. “Scully, I know you had good intentions.” He sent his tongue hard into his cheek, then wet his lips, shook his head. “I know how convincing he can be.” He gritted his teeth and wrung the plastic at the steering wheel. “I know all about believing his lies. I just- I wish you would have come to me.”

“I already explained to you that I couldn’t.” She looked at him and he nodded, sending his tongue back tight into his cheek. “This was something I felt I had to pursue,” she added, then looked back out the passenger window at the darkening sky. They were only a couple miles from her apartment. A few more traffic lights and they’d be there.

Hm. He squirmed in his seat and fought to keep his cool. “I would imagine. It’s a doctor’s dream to be able to cure any patient.” He paused and stopped himself from rolling his eyes. “For you to have that kind of power. Perhaps he knows you better than I thought he did.” Mulder breathed in sharply, and held it a few seconds, shaking his head, then spewed, “Then again, you two have been seeing a lot of each other lately.”

Scully sat quietly, crossing her legs so that her back was almost to him. Her eyes were daggers, but she kept them pointed at the window. He instantly regretted his words, but he also couldn’t help but think, what if something irreversible had happened? Dammit he always had to push it. “You said he had inflammation on the brain?” he asked, trying to change the subject. 

Scully’s face softened and she sent her eyes to her lap. “Yes, from the brain surgery. He said he only has months to live. Sounds like the surgery was less than successful.”

“Unless it was too successful,” Mulder added. He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. They should change the subject. “I read the emails between yourself and Cobra. At least The Smoking Man and Cobra. Cobra had quite a crush on you.”

“What?” Now she turned to face him.

“Yes, and the correspondence made it sound as though you might reciprocate.”

“Mulder, I knew nothing..”

“I know.. but for a split second, I almost believed that you did.”

“That must have been difficult.”

Mulder said nothing. Deciding against mentioning that once The Lone Gunman proved her email had been hijacked, his next picture in his mind was her being held against her will. How wrong he had been. 

“Mulder,” Sculled said, laying her hand on top of his, softening his edges. “Why am I still alive?”

He sighed and squeezed her hand. “I really believe the plan was for you to be killed. I think he looked into your eyes and it was just as you said. He longed for something he could never have. You made him a better person.” He took his eyes off the road to look into her own. “I know how you’re able to do that.” He sighed again and looked up at the sky to see the stars still shining, blurring as his eyes welled up. He wanted to hold her close and push her away simultaneously.

He pulled into a spot in front of her apartment and left her hand to turn off the ignition. “I’ll see you at work in the morning.”

“We can talk about this more.. I could put coffee on?”

“Yeah, I really have to get going. I’ve got to return some equipment to the Lone Gunman.” He felt her eyes upon him, knew that she was hurt, that The Smoking Man had managed to separate them. He couldn’t shake all the gruesome possibilities of what her in his presence could have manifested. “Have a good night, Scully.” His fingers cascaded over hers. She stared a while into his eyes before nodding and heading towards her apartment building. He waited until she was inside before pulling away.

Mulder didn’t go home or visit The Lone Gunman. Instead he drove not knowing a destination, eventually parking at the school. He popped the trunk and changed into the shorts he always kept in there and took off, the warm black velvet of night hugging him as he ran, until he could see his own soul more clearly. He was alone. Running with feet as light as the paws of a lion at the grueling pace of a Cheetah closing in on its prey. The storm raged inside- Scully putting herself in danger, him fighting a silent killer eating at his own brain, The Smoking Man wedging himself between them, his child that never came to be. Painful tears formed at the corners of his eyes, melting down his cold face. Crying felt good and he had no intention of pushing his sorrow away. Under the protection of the innumerable stars and a faithful moon he let his suffering run free, until the fire in his lungs spread into his heart, and then he let it grow to burn the dark emotions in its path. His tears kept him alive in the furnace of his agony. Raw from the inside, a theft and injury no one could see. It left his clothes and hair slick, he was vaguely aware of the stinging at his legs. He didn’t slow until he was back at the car, his hands to his knees to catch his breath, his lungs about to burst and his throat dryer than an AA meeting. Once inside the vehicle, he didn’t want to face a night of staring at the ceiling fan or the haunting blinking of the VCR. Instead he ventured to the loneliest place he could think of to feel shitty, and to stop his brain. 

*

Mulder rested his hand on the rough splintered wood of the door handle and centered himself before he entered. Dressed back in his street clothes he blended in, the sounds of his movement quickly lost in the swirls of conversations, his sweat masked by the stagnant stench of cigarettes and other mephitic odors. A sharp smell of beer and array of amber liquids wafted towards him. He sat down on the tall padded stool and waved a finger. The bartender nodded. His liquid sorrow would soon be on its way. 

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50316667783/in/photostream/)

Alone in her bedroom, Scully unpacked her clothes and conscious, embarrassed to have been conned, guilty that a man lost his life, concerned that Mulder had not forgiven her indiscretions, and worried of what had transpired with the lights out. The black silk dress slithered in her hands. Surely he had chosen it so she couldn’t wear the wire. That was the sole reason, wasn’t it? It was too late to test for drugs in her system, although she had felt no ill effects the following day. The encounter with Mulder before she left already had her aching, but she doubted The Smoking Man would have done anything that untoward. She shook the thoughts out of her head and placed the dress in her pile of clothes to donate to the church. As pretty as it was, she just couldn’t bear to do that to Mulder, or herself. There was only one thing that she couldn’t shake - Had she done something unknowingly irrevocable?


	11. Inception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50387615026/in/dateposted/)  
>   
> ***********

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50387785697/in/dateposted/)

Life in the following days would best be described as hectic. Hit with a marathon of cases, early mornings, late nights, Mulder had doubled down on her desire to commit to work. They were spending an exorbitant amount of time together, a talkative avoidance of their feelings, justified only within the bounds of professionalism. The only sleep, happened from exhaustion from the long hours, grateful when they were dreamless. The cool abyss of detachment got wider and easier to embrace as the days passed. Scully tried to fill it with work, but this time the cliff was too steep, the bottom too deep. Even through it all, the more she pushed their physical closeness away, the more the strength of their bond pulled tighter under the current. Mulder held an ambivalence to their sudden drop in affection, content and happy to be delving and chasing, getting high from the breadcrumbs of the next big lead. Always hungrier for more. It was Saturday and they were in the office of all places. In need of a breather, Scully pressed the lab to rush the results of the Szczesny autopsy. She now had a legitimate reason for being away for the morning. Mulder’s only request being for her to pick up lunch on the way back to the basement. Today Scully felt buried by the world, choking on life the way the women they had been investigating choked on their margarita mix. In the hallway on her way back to the office, she bumped into Lily, a colleague she had taught classes with in Quantico years back. To Scully’s surprise, Lily looked at least 6 months pregnant. 

“Lily! Congratulations!” Scully said in delight upon Lily confirming the good news. “My goodness, it feels like you just got married.”

“Dana it’s been two years,” Lily reminded her lightheartedly. 

Scully squinted at her in thought. “Has it been that long?”

“It was the same year you were in the hospital, going through your cancer treatments. Remember, that was why you couldn’t make the wedding.”

“Wow, yes. Well, congratulations again.” Scully forced a sincere smile, hiding the stinging in her chest. She felt genuinely happy for her friend. She had her career, had her husband,and at the end of a day went back to a home, not an empty apartment. 

“You think it would be too soon to get a puppy with the baby on the way?” Lily asked, her hand already naturally reaching for and massaging the baby bump.

“There are things to consider with a new puppy and a baby, you may want to wait a little before entering pets into the picture, but it’s really a personal decision. Like anything, there are always risks involved.” Scully felt her lower lip start to tremble. “Lily, I am really happy for you.” She gave her a hug, the woman having a good 6 inches on her, Scully felt herself reaching to her toes. Absentmindedly, she glanced at her watch. Mulder would be waiting. “I’ve got a meeting to go to,” Scully explained apologetically. “Why don’t we meet for lunch or something next week?”

Lily nodded enthusiastically. “Definitely. I’ll give you a call.”

The walls seemed to bow as Scully walked down the FBI halls, her heart fluttering in her chest, beating hard, this morning’s coffee churning in her stomach, bubbling and foaming like waves as they receded against a shore, only to crash again and again. Scared she might be sick she rushed to the bathroom. The synthetic flowery air fresheners and cleaners making it harder to breathe. Scully gagged. Her throat felt like sandpaper with each hard swallow. The cool water felt good against her cheeks as she set their lunch on the counter and splashed her face. She watched her flushed cheeks soften their glow in the mirror’s reflection. Time was moving, each passing day, farther and farther away from that life not led. Not that there was anything wrong with not desiring the partner, spouse, and kids bundle, but being with Mulder was like running on a treadmill. The Truth, the carrot that kept their feet moving, even though they caught glimpses, was always just out of reach. The rest was the life denied. How foolish to have thought she could sneak in a child, a family between cases. Did she want to love Mulder in that way? Could she accept this was her life? Could she give up that dream and embrace the life she chose, accepting that it came without? 

Life with Mulder. They slept when the cases permitted, usually during travel; they ate while the gears turned and possibilities swirled. Could there be life with Mulder? Could they carve out some semblance of time to enjoy the places they went, be tourists instead of agents, cook meals together, go on walks together, enjoy a sunset, a breeze, changing leaves? When was the last time they danced, or laughed in the rain? 

It was much more than that though, wasn’t it? An underlying reason she broke into a cold sweat when his glare penetrated into her heart, the way her hands and lips trembled with the honesty of his raw perusal that left her bare, exposed, like a cadaver in the autopsy bay. 

Scully turned off the faucets and gave herself one last look in the mirror, fixing her collar and grabbing their bag of lunch. Maybe she just needed a hot meal and a warm bath. When was the last time she had time to light candles and read a book? Instead, she settled for a cold shower and a spar with Mulder. 

Not even an hour later, the conductor of the road not taken, slammed on the brakes of her rollercoaster and asked if she wanted to step into a horse and buggy instead. Her choice to not follow Mulder into the English countryside of crop circles led her here- crashing into her past like Eboneezer Scrooge. 

**[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50387793197/in/dateposted/) **

Mulder’s mind was high on the scent of a new case, a new truth, but his heart dragged like a bag of wet concrete. The old black and white movie in the background played the accompaniment to its string section - “You’re breaking my heart.” First she didn’t want to go to England and now she was out for the night. He ignored the severe pangs in his stomach like sneakers tumbling around in a dryer, the bees that had nested inside his heart or the monkeys rattling inside the cage of his chest. He had other fish to fry, his mind had to follow the tuning fork, but in the back of it he was disappointed he wouldn’t have the chance to show Scully a part of his other life, tour his old Oxford stomping grounds and relive and retell the memories for her. Was this it for them? Would this be all they ever had for romance was a couple lonely nights? Maybe she had already closed that door and was on to something else. Maybe it was for the best. Mulder still not completely convinced he didn’t bring sorrow and pain to all he touched. After everything, if the X-Files was not what she chose, he could do nothing but accept it and his role as a partner, an agent, a friend, as she kept at a distance in a safe harbor. If he used his psychological training, he might burden his heart into thinking that part of her need for distance stemmed from every time she looked at him all she saw was her loss. Mulder swallowed hard and zipped up his remaining luggage for the trip across the pond. It would be a long flight.

**[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50387618981/in/photostream/) **

Had Mulder been the crutch enabling her to not live out the other parts of her life? Had he been her avoidance and time just passed? Was their physical relationship just filling another need so she wouldn’t need to search it out elsewhere, but in the end still have… what exactly? What would make her say at the end of her life that she achieved what she set out for? Was it all simple fear or did she blame him or both or none? Was a romantic relationship with Mulder even possible? Is that what she wanted or was it just too hard to acknowledge her own truth. That to carry on with her life, she had to let go of Mulder. Looking at Daniel with tears welling and threatening to fall, she found it all so hard to believe. Just as she questioned herself and Mulder and what the two of them had and the paths she had to choose, just as she was faced with the thorns and crosses to bear for her choices, there he lay. Daniel. Simply offering her to love him and so easily able to give his love without challenge, without argument, without the push and pull of hearts scarred and wounded from too many battles fought. “You’ve come at such a strange time.”

“I know - you-you have a life.”

Scully shook her head, her chest leaking with sorrow and pain, all that she had been through from when she left Daniel to now, faced with the sum of that steep upward climb to know the pinnacle may be nothing but a cliff and a cloudy view. “I don’t know what I have,” she cried, her voice shaky, not even needing to hold back emotion. How did all this happen so suddenly, all because of a mixup and there he was, saying the things Mulder never said, being all the things Mulder never was, asking the questions Mulder never asked.

“What is it you want, Dana?”

“I want everything I should want at this time of my life.” Then she admitted a fear to herself- what if every one, her father, her mother, her brother, Daniel, they were all right and she was wrong - because then she’d have her child, her husband, her life. The simple things. The creature comforts. “Maybe I wanted the life I didn’t choose.” And there Daniel was and had been, waiting for her in the shadows for the last ten years. He lifted his hand and she pressed it and held it. What was she doing? Was she deciding to turn back? Walk away? Had she given up on what she thought was right? Or was this giving in? All she could do was cry and squeeze his hand, accept his comfort, listen to the steady beat of his heart and for a moment embody the person she was and let the rest go. When she did, what happened to Scully had not been the return to “normal, regular, mundane” or whatever adjective most reflected the moment, no, Scully had left that other part of her unguarded. A vision, a flash of an aura, layers of energy and consciousness revealed. The monitor alarm went off. He was flatlining. Scully began CPR. There was no escape. Nothing was ever meant to come easy for Dana Katherine Scully. Nothing, because nothing meant so much. 

After, the culmination of events catapulted Scully to expand her mind, open herself up to the possibilities, slow down and take heed. For what had been almost a lifetime, she allowed herself for the first time to release her fears, let go, let in, and see. Time slowed and expanded and her visions cleared. Scully understood and healed Daniel with a medicine, an ability, she had always known she was gifted with, but had refused in the past. 

As the words, “Voodoo Crap,” left the newly recovered Daniel’s lips, Scully felt herself stiffen and became indignant. That “Voodoo Crap” was what saved his life and she didn’t want to live in the world of the closed minded, a world walking around with eyes wide shut. She chose the blue pill and she had been through the looking glass and she didn’t want to turn back or make different choices. There were several layers, worlds, sitting on the one they shared and she wanted to explore them all. Meeting Daniel again allowed her to realize how far she had grown, how much she had evolved and there was no longer a desire to return. 

**[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50387857597/in/photostream/) **

With arms crossed Scully found herself outside the hospital, staring off in a trance-like state, zoned out or rather tuned in. She wasn’t that person and that wasn’t her life, but was she so different from Daniel? Was she also sick? Not allowing herself happiness, cutting herself off from the world she knew existed, on her own self-destructive path. How many times in the past had she cried saying she was ashamed of her choices? She had been exposed to an alien spaceship that performed miracles and had a chip in her own neck that was supposedly capable of curing all human ailments yet she was unable to conceive. Could her own closed mindedness have aided in the failures? Her unwillingness to believe? Was she also running from the truth? Where was the truth that she needed so desperately to face head on? 

It was in the middle of those thoughts that a person in beige caught her eye. The woman. She ran, almost frantic to thank her, to let her know all that happened, when.. she found Mulder.

“Maybe sometimes nothing happens for a reason, Mulder.”

Over hot tea, late into the night, she shared with her partner, her best friend, her weekend experience and her revelations. 

Daniel was the man she almost married. The course of her life would have been the mundane instead of the macabre, the unknown would have been given off-hand, rational, explanations to be carried away in the breeze like falling leaves, landing on the desk of a man she would never meet, exposing her to a labyrinth of dimensions she would never know. Think of all she would have missed. All the things that went into that moment of enabling her to be capable of having that vision. What if all the other choices were wrong? Then what was her right choice?

**[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50386981373/in/dateposted/) **

Mulder considered the weekend Scully had faced and more as she fell asleep on his couch. Taking the moment to appreciate her for all she was to him, he fixed her fine strands of hair and carefully tucked her into his blanket. He only made it to the door frame before looking back one last time. She was beautiful at peace. He also realized he had better move her, otherwise she’d wake up with a stiff neck. Retreating to the bedroom, he changed into his boxers, then went to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He spit into the sink and rinsed, dried his hands and mouth on the rough cotton towel and went back into the living room, careful to make her comfortable on the couch, but not disturb her. 

“You were right, Mulder,” Scully mumbled to him groggily with eyes half closed as he straightened the blanket.

“I’ve been trying to tell you that all along, Scully,” he said with a half smile sitting on the edge of the couch, fixing a throw pillow behind her head.

“I know,” she replied with a tiny yawn, her eyes closing. “Everything happens for a reason.”

He wasn’t sure if she was awake or not, but he had to ask, “So what was I right _about_?”

Scully opened her eyes and propped herself up on her elbow clearly fighting her need to doze. “Me, not listening. You’ve been so strong, supportive of me through all the struggles I had trying to conceive this baby, and I never considered your feelings. It’s not just the X-Files I would have missed out on Mulder. I would have missed being with you. Our friendship, our partnership. I’ve walked around for the past seven years throwing jabs and punches about not having a life, but I’m in control of my own ship. When I sit back and contemplate, with all we sacrificed, but Mulder, what we’ve uncovered, and yes, accomplished. All we’ve seen and experienced. And I got to do it all… with you. We’ve been desperately drowning ourselves in whatever frivolous work we could find, and when I stopped. Really stopped, I saw the path and the forks.”

“What are you saying, Scully?” 

“I know the way this night ends. I’ve seen it, like another vision.”

Mulder crooked the corner of his mouth in a sly smile. “You have.”

“Yes, and in it I fall asleep on this couch and I wake up and we go back to work and everything resets and we go on to the next monster of the week.” Her eyes shined with the glow of the fishtank deepening her cobalt seas. “There are no monsters this week, Mulder. I’m choosing another path. That’s if you choose to walk with me.”

Mulder trudged a hand through his thick dark mane pausing to scratch the back of his head. “It might be that it’s late at night, Scully, but you might have to spell it out for me.”

Scully swallowed hard, but there was no trembling in her lips, her hands or her eyes. Her voice held steady and so did her gaze. “I’ve had these feelings for some time, but it’s only now that I am ready to admit to myself… to you.. Mulder, I’m in love with you and no matter what the next day brings, my decision, my choice, will always remain. It will always be you.”

There was a lull in between heartbeats and the world, time, stopped. A thunder, born from silence, exploded in Mulder’s chest with a pulsating radiance. His heart felt like a molten fireball, her words blasting inside boring their way in. Mulder was breathless. The space between them filled with air that had not yet heard the news. He leaned down and kissed her the way an artist might paint a masterpiece on canvas. He felt the pull of her hand at his back and his hand knotted in her hair, the other down her body. He struggled to get the blanket from between them and carried her to the bedroom, her arms around his neck, her clothed body against his bare chest, his lips locked onto hers. 

Their gazes held as he laid her gently on the bed and his body coated hers. He brushed the stubborn errant strand of hair away from her face, his electric fingers tucking it behind her ear. Being so close to her beauty in the dimly lit room made his mouth go dry. The wall around her heart, each brick unique and firmed from history, carved by the pain of monsters. Shiny steel snowflakes that now melted for him, and what shone through, pure and bright, revealing their truth. The one that called them in the night. The miracle that they found each other among a maelstrom of ineffable particles and matter, galaxies and stars, all they sacrificed and suffered through. The years of darkness he had consumed were now pushed away and pressing through the honeycomb of his pores until the light of his soul broke through to bathe with hers. Their souls had brushed in the past, but now they braided, stitched with the threads of the cosmos. 

“You are everything to me, Scully. And my actions these past weeks, holding against you running off with the Smoking Man, for me to push you so far away… I could have lost you.. but also, I understood what you needed to do.” His thumb grazed her cheek and he looked deep into her eyes. He had always treasured their color, a raw and saturated blue, as if cut from the dawn, when the sun and moon shared the same sky. Right now they were taking in his every word. “You have to know, Scully, I will never give up on you, your chance at a baby, you will find a way.”

His eyes stayed fixated on hers. The chemistry between them sparked and spread like electrified cobwebs in his chest. He felt her tremble in his arms. A tear streaked her temple as it fell to her pillow. He knew what she felt because he had felt it too, the mourning for what she held so dearly being released- her fear to love so completely and openly, and the death of her loneliness which at times she cherished. He would never give up on her. “That’s why I love you, Mulder,” she said softly.

The words dripped down his ear canal, slow and sweet like nectar, and as melodic as if sung by a nightingale, cascading into his heart to make up his life force, traveling to fingertips and toes, nourishing and warming every follicle and cell. It stirred his deepest, darkest desires for her. He closed his eyes as if to kiss her, instead only their noses brushed and he pressed his forehead against the genius that kept him safe and sane, so their minds could mingle. He relished in the feeling of all they had shared, all the armor they shed, and all the hope they had left. He felt her tug at his bottom lip with her own and it sent a tingle down his spine. 

Her hips tilted raising her knees to his waist, her skirt sliding up innocuously. The movement made him thicken and throb; his eager erection growing ever towards her heat, poking through his boxers and fighting against her nylons, the shaft leaning into the innermost part of her thigh, the tip parting her folds. The whimpering moan from Scully culminated deep in her throat. He kissed her, but not one of desperation, but belonging. It was slow and gentle, deep and hot, exploring and reveling in every part of her mouth and feel of her tongue. His hands slid down to her skirt, unzipping it by her thigh. His fingers lingered there, caressing an exposed leg. Her ivory silk stalk that dared to follow him into the night. Out of everyone in his life he trusted, Scully was the only one to earn that trust. A rush of pleasure surged and Mulder ripped at her nylons, needing the feel of her skin, and Scully gasped against his lips without protest. 

“It’s only you, Scully..,” he whispered as he gently kissed her cheek, “..that’s ever made me feel this way.” He moved across to her ear, nibbling at her lobe before moving down her neck to the hollow of her throat. “I need you, Scully.” 

This was different from any way he had ever wanted her before. This called to him in the grace of her movement, the divinity in her skin, the communion with her mouth. Carefully he removed her sweater, bra, then skirt, panties, and what was left of her shredded nylons. He worked his way down her body, licking, kissing, sucking, nibbling, making love to her sweet skin. She cried out his name when those same lips met with the hot silk of her center. He wanted to please her until his mouth was dry and sore, until his tongue went numb and lips chapped. Kissing the inside of her right thigh, then nibbling and sucking her left, he reveled in her scent and moistened his palate with the thought that he would be tasting and joining once again with the woman who defended his honor and pulled him from the wreckage even as the whole world fell apart. 

His tongue flattened and read her folds like braille as she quivered. That sweet, juicy, gratifying flavor dripping for him had Mulder hard as the marble columns of the white house. Oh and how he loved making her moan. Scully’s back arched, knees spreading further apart and Mulder was taking it all in with eyes open, his tongue inside her and around plush swollen lips, sucking on her tantalizing clit. All as she was running her hands through his hair, clawing his arms, squeezing at his hands as they covered and massaged her breasts. He danced his tongue around and around responding to her gasps and moans. She followed his lead, grinding against the entirety of his mouth, using him as an instrument with which to orchestrate crescendos of desire.

He flicked his tongue lightly over her bud, her moans rising to a pleasure-filled shriek. He heard her gasps quicken, until finally her whole body lifted from the mattress and went rigid. Scully clutched the headboard tight, the extreme pleasure and satisfaction raising the pitch of her moans, drawing them from her, long and slow. Mulder receded, running his hand over his stubbled face, soaked, from the bottom of his nose to the cleft in his chin, in her pleasure. 

Scully lay sprawled on the mattress, eyes tight, but with a contented smile on her lips as the waves of her body's aftershocks shook her. Mulder was rock hard throbbing to the point of pain, confused as he was certain he had come at the sight, sounds, smell and feel of her climax, but the sheets were dry and his body demanded more.

He slid back to her lips, distracted along the way, sucking a breast into his mouth, licking, teasing as she moaned and scraped his back. He looked up to see her watching him, and he performed, swirling his tongue over the nipple, the pink skin rising into his mouth. He closed his eyes savoring her like the delicacy she was.

Eventually, he found her lips. “I want to give you more pleasure than you’ve ever felt,” he hummed in low tones.

“You already have,” she replied with a warm glow.

“More than anyone has ever given you?” Mulder held his breath, every muscle poised for her answer.

“More than anyone,” she smiled, her voice soft with the reassurance he needed.

He pressed his mouth to the warm soft shell of her ear. His tone strained and rough. “Even more than when you’re alone in your hotel room with the toy in your makeup bag you think I don’t know about?”

“Toy? What toy?” Scully answered slowly, her voice coming up an octave.

She dropped her jaw and released a silent moan as he reached two fingers inside and massaged her inner walls, allowing the palm of his hand to press against her engorged clit still sensitive from their last encounter. “The one that you use when you’ve spent all day with me, but as good as the fantasy is, you still need me if you want to come.” Sheathed in wetness, his fingers moved like they were gliding over silk, gently sliding out to tease her nub. “Oh you’re so wet, Scully, and you’re frustrated, begging to come, to relieve that ache, but you’re about to give up, because you need me inside you, because only my cock can reach the places you need stroked. And, just as you give up, you hear my heavy breaths through the wall, and you think, he can’t be, but then you hear your name and the way I moan it, the passion fueled behind it, and it is so erotic, your heart skips, a thrill fills your chest, it makes every sensation inside you catch and build like a geyser about to set free.” His fingers worked her harder and faster and her body jolted, a gentle pulse beneath his thumb syncing with the rapid beat of his heart. “Now the only picture in your mind’s eye is me, your partner, stroking myself to your vision, while your own hand circles faster, and even though we’re desperate for each other, we stay in our separate rooms, and reach our climax together.” He put deep pressure against her clit with his thumb and felt her contracting reflexively around his fingers, an onslaught of emotions crashing inside him as she arched into his chest and cried his name, tugged at the back of his hair, tightening her toned tummy with every gasp, finally pressing her lips to his.

“I love you, Mulder.” Watching her crystal blue eyes showering him with affection, he released a sigh. His eyes started to burn, and he blinked back his emotions. He didn’t want a day to pass that he didn’t appreciate the way she looked at him, everything they had, everything she did for him. For someone so capable, beautiful, and brilliant to choose to spend so much of her time with him. How much time did they have?

He removed his boxers as her hand dipped between them to tenderly wrap around his cock, the move touching and hot simultaneously. Mulder watched as she stroked it lightly before he covered her hand preventing her from taking him too far over the edge. They stared into each other’s eyes, guiding it in, joining them together. Mulder groaned softly. “The way it feels to be inside you. I know how special it is to feel this way about you, and even as we’ve chosen to do this... I don’t take any of it lightly.”

He took a long breath, his chest pressing against her lips. He looked down at her as she lifted her chin to gaze upwards. Scully closed her eyes and pulsed against his shaft, clenching around it. “Oh,” he groaned. “Scully.” He pulled out and pushed back in. “Scully,” he moaned again, his heart detonating with as much sensation as his cock. With the next push it went so deep inside her he felt it might tear her apart. It felt divine. Mulder moved slowly, sliding along her walls, full and hard, deep and steady. Her hands tenderly stroked his face, grazed through his hair, compassionately traced down his torso. He held himself up on one hand while he fisted her hair in his other. Her hot breath tickled the hair at his chest, her tightened nipples rising against his abs. 

Scully rocked her hips up and Mulder rocked forward. He ached where they were joined, the friction against her folds, the push and pull, the fire that demanded him to make it last, Scully opened her legs even wider, sliding her feet along his dark gray cotton sheets, giving her leverage to arch her hips up even further and cradle him tighter. Mulder released a high pitch groan. The sensations so severe it crept along dangerous borders waning his control. 

“Mulder, do feel that?” she panted as she squeezed her pelvic floor muscles, her chest rising and falling in tandem with his.

Mulder slowed again and changed the angle. “I feel you Scully, Oh, I feel you,” he moaned in a rumble. “I feel, you feel, incredible.”

The pads of Scully’s fingertips traced at the side of his neck at the fading red area. “I’ve marked you.”

He laced his fingers with hers and held the hand that had caressed his forehead so many times before, the one that tended to his wounds and ripped him out of self-destruction and placed it against his heart. “You’ve marked me in better places than that.”

“You’re a beautiful man, Mulder...” She tightened her muscles again and he groaned. “...And tonight, you’re all mine.” 

Her strong athletic legs wrapped firmly around him and he felt himself grow fuller and harder inside her. “I’ve always been yours, Scully.”

Mulder thrusted. Scully’s body jerked in rhythm with his movements until the springs of his bed started to creak. It had not been built for a love like theirs. As their rocking accelerated, the springs whined, their hips slapped and pounded. He drove her into the mattress, his body heavy on hers, his sweat dripping onto her skin. Tapping on the window, raindrops and branches, a distant boom of thunder swallowed their cries. Lightning flared, bathing the room in white, illuminating the outline of their bodies. His gaze directly met Scully’s and fully connected, forming their bridge. He was joining with the antithesis of his soul, accepting its strength and determination to fight as he did, to hold on the way he did, to play with the same tenacity, and love with the power and will that only his compliment could behold. She provided a wordless comfort laced with sensuality. Scully’s body, hot and tense, the noises she made exciting him more than he thought possible. 

He loved her beyond his body’s capabilities. He loved her as she saved him time and again whether from a mind erasing air force base, or from the depths of a sub in Alaska. She lied for him, defended his honor, risked her life, her career for him, supported and challenged his theories, she was his proof, his science that love and truth were real and tangible. She catered to his lacerations, both physical and emotional. Their stardust seeped from their broken bodies, their atoms and molecules joining them deeper and stronger than any covalent bond, never to be bound or codified or broken. Two people, connected, not by the simplicities of sexual attraction, family, or financial affairs, but the shared agreement to never give up, a mutual dedication to a union born in blood and lies, grown from purity and trust. They bonded in moments of darkness and fear, with bullets blazing across seamless skies and devils breaking down their doors. With the world and known science against them they chose to believe, continued to crack open the seemingly impenetrable, and still he couldn’t say the words. So he spoke to her with his body, with his eyes, with the complexity and nuance that language failed.

She answered him by raking her nails down his back, gripping his ass and pulling him in until he could go no deeper. Mulder leaned into her so their full bodies could slide against the other. Scully’s body stiffened, her insides tight around him, her mouth open. He was driving all his love and his emotions into her, harder and faster, every inch of him vibrating into her with more pleasure and intensity than any orgasm he had ever experienced. He felt the first tremors and Scully clamped down on him. She came beneath his body, soaking his cock, twisting and arching against his hips and with eyes joined to hers, his heart exploded with feeling as his warmth seeped into her being. Their body’s pulsing equal and opposite the others. Their eyes going to that forbidden place of tenderness deep within their souls. Her palm dragged gently over his late night stubble and he wiped the saturated strands away from her face as they exchanged an intense and intimate smile. Slowly he rolled off to her side, remaining tangled as she nestled into him. Arms and legs crossing. Hands covering and caressing. He let his gaze rest on hers. She touched his face again in wonder. “Mulder.” 

Mulder snaked his arms and legs around her as they settled into their cocoon. As they spooned, he pressed his lips to the scar where her chip lay. He closed his eyes and prayed to it as if it might send messages straight to the gods. Then he pleaded with all his being to the God of his god, that she may be granted the ability to somehow create their miracle.

Scully squeezed Mulder’s hand as it gently splayed along her lower abdomen. She covered it with hers, lacing their fingers, closing her eyes and praying for the guidance and strength to find the answers, the faith to not give up hope. If Mulder believed so would she. Tears stung at her eyes, comforted as she felt the press of Mulder’s lips at her neck. It warmed her and she felt their pull, like an electrostatic force tangled together, tied with a double bowline knot. Fleeting thoughts as she drifted to sleep.


	12. So Much for the Afterglow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after "All Things" and the start of the episode "Brand X". If you're wondering what happened to Chimera, it is coming up soon. In the beginning of the episode it says that it took place two weeks after Easter, which places it right before "Fight Club" around May 6th. This date will become more important to us later. For now, let's bask in the afterglow.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50525050011/in/dateposted/)

Mulder brought his hand down on the alarm clock. His neurons not yet firing on all cylinders, it took a minute to realize Scully wasn’t there. Squinting, he couldn’t quite make out the time, but knew it was early when there was no light struggling to get past the dust and cobwebs on his blinds. He pushed the comforter off, immediately feeling the warmth of sleep begin to slip away. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His bare feet pressing softly against the cold wood, he stood and walked towards the window. A steady patter of rain fell, the droplets that remained on the glass scattered the nascent rays of the rising sun through the heavy clouds. He heard thunder rumbling from far away, and a stream of water pouring from the gutters towards the soaked grass below. It would definitely be a take my umbrella to work day. 

What he didn’t see was Scully’s car, or any little notes letting him know a good time was had by all. Given all that had transpired during the night, Mulder shouldn’t have had such a heaviness hanging in his chest, yet now he just felt like the rain. Scully had told him she loved him last night, that she was _in_ love with him. That she _chose_ him. Mulder’s stomach dropped. She had a way of complicating his life in the most frustratingly delightful ways. There was no point in scrutinizing her actions this morning without more facts, so Mulder headed to the bathroom to get ready for work where hopefully he would find her. 

The scent of rain hung in the air as he walked into the coffee shop. The sky had darkened once more and the colors faded away. As the mist thickened, the unmistakable roll of thunder growled threateningly. Mulder ordered two coffees to go and a sausage, egg, and cheese bagel for himself. He smirked. The workout last night had him craving to replenish his spent energy. The memories creating a slideshow that made his cock and his heart throb hard for one woman. It hadn’t been that long since he felt this way because he had never felt this way about anyone. Last night Scully seeped into every space and gap between his atoms and fused them to her. 

“Sir, are you paying with cash or credit?” the woman behind the counter asked with a tone that indicated she wasn’t fond of his daydreaming and needed to move the line along. 

Mulder whipped out a fresh $20 bill from his wallet and gave a sheepish apology. To even things out he left a dollar in the tip jar.

Outside, the sidewalk that would bustle in a few short hours was quiet. If he strained he might almost hear the heartbeat of the city, his footsteps like the ticking of a grandfather clock in an old deserted house. 

He smirked at the sight of the flower planter to the right, the city had put in new blooms that would give flashes of sunny yellows and hot pinks through the springtime. Mulder decided to stop by the florist on the way into work. Maybe they would make Scully smile. 

Stepping into the street to the driver’s side, other cars passed with a hiss, lights and wipers on. The road lay black with rain under the still shining streetlamps, a feeble sun hiding behind grey clouds. A pain shot into Mulder’s chest. What if he had said or done something unknowingly? What if it affected their friendship? He’d never forgive himself. 

When Mulder arrived at the office, he was crestfallen to see that Scully wasn’t there. He left her coffee on the edge of the desk with the flowers as if the smell alone might bewitch her down to his lair. It must have worked because she appeared moments later, avoiding his eye contact and heading towards the back of the room. 

He felt his heart ripping apart searching her eyes, waiting for them to lift as she took each heeled step back to his desk. She lifted the flowers and inhaled. “Thank you.” Her eyes met with his briefly, but he was unable to read them. 

“Just don’t walk them by the deli, I stole them from the flower pot.”

“Do we have any possible cases pending? Anything you’ve been researching?” Scully asked, taking a sip of her coffee, Mulder barely able to keep his composure, wanting to scream out, lock her in an interrogation room and question her every motive and feeling. 

Instead his voice dropped low and steady. “Nothing on the horizon. I’m afraid today will be fraught with piles of paperwork.”

Scully sighed heavily. “Might as well get started.”

Mulder picked up the latest folder for her. As he handed it over, his fingers caressed hers, then hooked one. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Scully said, even softer than the way he asked his question, her finger tightening around his. She met his eyes and he let the tension hang in the air until finally she said, “Mulder.”

“You- you just left,” he monotoned, feeling like a grenade had caught in his throat, “before I got a chance to say good morning.”

“I didn’t bring my overnight bag. I had to go back to change and it was easier to shower at home.”

The vice around Mulder's heart squeezed. “You don’t have to make something up..”

“Mulder.. After everything I said to you last night..”

Scully’s eyes showed a flash of vulnerability, her small frame appearing to almost curl up under his. Mulder nodded in affirmation. “I’d hope you would come talk to me if you were having second thoughts.”

“I’m not.”

Mulder held her gaze. He read them like a novel. They were telling him to give her a little time, a little space, she’d come around. They were telling him to let her go where she needed to go, to build back up her immunity to being emotionally exposed, and he would, as long as she wasn’t gone too long. The phone rang and Scully released from his grip, taking the folder. Mulder picked up the receiver, keeping their eyes locked. “Mulder.”

“Mulder, I need you and Scully to come to my office. I’m being pulled away on an assignment,” Skinner said gruffly. 

*

The clock on the wall read ten minutes to five when Scully told him that she’d be heading home. Mulder didn’t want her to go. He didn’t care if there was no conversation. Just to feel her presence in the office was enough for him. He also knew if she left, he wouldn’t see her until the office the following day. That meant an entire night of no sleep and wondering how she felt. Mulder started shutting down his computer. “If you’re hungry, we could stop by Kelsey’s, my treat?”

“I’m sorry, Mulder, not tonight,” Scully said. Mulder felt his nerves creeping up, but when he looked into her eyes her electric blue glare turned heavy and intense. “I’d rather bring something back for us to my place.”

*

Back at her place, Mulder stared intently as Scully took another bite out of her pizza. He wondered how she was able to fit a slice in her mouth with that many toppings on it. He didn’t think it was a good idea to bring up the discussion of last night at the moment. She looked tired. Bags hung under her eyes from the little sleep they had gotten and he felt a little guilty for even being there and not letting her rest. With not much to talk about, they chomped away in silence. Something neither of them were used to.

After a few more tense, slightly awkward, minutes, they finished eating and Mulder offered to do the dishes. Or, in this case, throw away their paper plates. When he returned to the living room Scully was sitting on the couch reading a book as if trying to give him the hint it was time to leave. Why couldn’t he just speak candidly? _Scully, I know that we came at this relationship sideways, but I’d like to start over, take you out on a date, do something, more respectable, more of what you deserve._

Simple as that. Unfortunately, he wasn’t certain she would say yes and he couldn’t handle the rejection. He’d rather just ride the status quo. Mulder sat down next to Scully and ran his hands down his thighs. “While I’m here we could catch up on any work we have for tomorrow.”

“We could,” she said, placing her book down on her lap.. “I’ll go get my laptop.”

They fell into their comfortable groove, nestled together, joking as they completed their case reports, firearm discharging forms, and other such forms like they were mad libs. As the night wore on, their cadence slowed and a quick laugh held longer, a mere glance became more intriguing meditations for the optics. Scully stared long and hard at Mulder’s lips, pouting her own in a move Mulder had witnessed several times throughout the years, half smirk, half temptress. Enough to make you leave your family and sell your soul. She set her laptop on the coffee table, removed her glasses and placed them to the side, turning slowly back at him.

For the second time that day Scully’s frame seemed so fragile, but her presence filled the entire room. Mulder inhaled trying to steady his breathing, to stifle his nerves and catch a whiff of her natural perfume. Scully’s eyes ventured his way again, drowning in emotions that had no voice. She turned like she was getting up from the couch, possibly to show him to the door, but then glanced back at him.

The next few seconds passed like small eternities. Mulder’s heart beat painfully in his chest. Scully leaned toward him. Barely a centimeter, but that small move he knew was a plea and he didn’t hesitate. He slid one hand into her hair and brought her towards him. 

Maybe it was wrong. Short sighted. He needed to let her go. Give her the time she requested in unspoken words. 

“Mulder.”

His name, a prayer, a leap of faith. Their lips met ever so gently, allowing time for Mulder to brace for a shove to his chest or the jerk of her head as he got offered her cheek, but instead she sighed against his mouth. His head tilted to the side and their lips fit the way they were meant to. Her mouth opened and her hand glided up and around his neck, as she strung her fingers through his hair and moaned. His stomach tightened. They were kissing and Scully was trying to speak, but that meant thought, that meant ruining this moment. Distracting her, he kissed her deeper, dragging the pads of his finger across the sensitive skin just at the nape of her neck. Scully shivered. He felt his cock strain against his slacks. It was going to be another unforgettable night, and he knew she knew that too as she pulled back and caught her breath.

Their eyes joined again, caring and love flowing like lava lamps. Mulder didn’t want to leave them. Fresh hope bloomed inside. She made his blood flow and his cock ache. Slowly, he unbuttoned her shirt, keeping their gaze as he did, then slid his hand down her smooth shoulder, her collarbone, lower until he felt the small curve of her breast. Scully’s cheeks flushed with color and as Mulder glanced downward he saw her nipples matched them. The rest porcelain and perfect and a lightning bolt of pleasure shot from his groin to his spine while he buried his face in her neck.

“Mulder,” she moaned and gripped at his back, and at the same moment, the house phone rang. 

That’s all it took to bring the world crashing back down around them. Mulder groaned, met with Scully’s soprano accompaniment. She was disappointed too and that little piece of news meant all was not lost. As Scully got up to answer the incessant ring, Mulder untucked his shirt to try to cover up his ungodly erection and called out, “You know it’s Skinner.”

And he was right. Skinner was requesting their assistance in Winston-Salem. He didn’t want to get into the details over the phone, just that he needed their expertise. Procuring plane tickets, they would have a couple hours to rest before they needed to head to the airport.

Scully half-heartedly offered him the guest bedroom. “It will be quicker if we take a nap and then head to your place, then drive to the airport together,” she explained, as if that would make up for the pressure that had built in his scrotum. Begrudgingly, he agreed and headed there, flipping the television on and laying on top of the comforter, not even bothering to turn down the bed. It wasn’t like he could have taken her hand and drawn her back into another kiss, whatever magic percolating on the couch had vanished quicker than a tiger in a magician’s magic box. Instead, he concentrated on the flashing pixels on the tv screen, Scully’s apartment bringing him the peace and quiet-calm his brain didn’t get without her. It allowed his eyes to flutter closed on their own accord. 

Scully’s alarm from the other room woke Mulder a few hours later and he met her in her bedroom to find her hurriedly trying to shower, pack and look presentable. 

“You can use my shower if you want, Mulder,” Scully offered as she pushed an earring through her lobe. 

“Guess I missed the group discount,” he returned smugly and was met with peeled eyes. 

With a quick shower, he was forced to dress back into his previous day’s clothes. He helped her with her carry-on, hopped in the car, and headed for his place. 

It only took him minutes to pack, Scully standing at the foot of the bed with her arms crossed waiting. Mulder couldn’t help but notice she chose to wear a skirt, a pretty periwinkle blue, although not nearly as stunning as her eyes. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to the side. His cock stirred as he imagined how easy it could be to access the parts of her body reserved for him. Only him. That very thought made him swell at the very same time he chose to remove his slacks and reach for a new pair from the closet, putting him right besides Scully. Her eyes traced his muscled torso and dipped down around his boxers. 

“I’m sorry Scully, but your outfit, that skirt, you look….” He let his voice trail off.

“I look what, Mulder?” She asked softly.

He swallowed hard. “Beautiful.”

Mulder made a move to step away, but at that exact same moment Scully lifted herself on her toes and captured his mouth in a soul stealing kiss. Her hands pulling down on the back of his head kept him there, pressing against her. He felt drugged, groggy from lack of sleep and from their sensual dance. It took all his wits just to stay standing, let alone concentrate on returning her kiss. His thumb curved around her ribs, and brushed the very edge of her breasts through her blouse. Her mouth slanted over his and he shuddered. It was seduction, pure and complicated. He was helpless and frozen, using all his wits just to keep standing, her delicate healing hands over his heart making him forget to execute the simple act of breathing. 

Scully pulled back to trace his chiseled jaw. Her features were masked in desperate need. It was nearly enough to break his heart when her lips pressed against his temple, cheek, the delicate groove below his ear. His eyes pinched closed as tingles ricocheted down his spine.

“Our flight,” Mulder half-heartedly reminded her.

“Mulder, we have time.”

Her parted lips found his again and this time his body came alive. He moaned, unable to contain the shot of pleasure she injected into his body, tangling one hand in her thick fiery locks as his mouth opened to tease her tongue. He felt her kiss him with all the desire he knew she had repressed in the past. The part of her he longed for, that sacred place inside he had only seen in shadows, over the last few weeks even the cracks had shown their light. 

She dropped her hand between them and stroked his cock over his shorts. He responded with a deep hungry groan, balancing her on top of boxes of files, they kissed with no holds barred. His hand wrapped around her thighs and Scully lifted her legs, her skirt slid higher up her waist, his hand following, and now her center was against his. His groin tightened. Desire sizzled inside and flooded his system.

Everywhere she touched it felt like she was dragging a flame across his skin. It seared, ignited. It turned him on to the point of tearing her nylons, groping at her breasts. Her, dragging her nails down his back and ripping off his boxers. He pushed her hard up against the wall and drove into her, losing control, rocking his hips against hers; she was biting at his collar bone and her hands were grabbing at his abs, his ass, she was so wet and so tight and this was.. This was… DEAR LORD. 

He pressed his mouth to the shell of her ear, inhaling a lungful of her lavender and vanilla, wanting to spill his heart the way she had, but instead rasped out, “I love how much I want you. And I love how good you feel.”

The need to be inside her possessed his body and his pumping was anything but gentle. Mulder cinched her skirt above her waist and using the pad of his thumb swirled her clit until her eyes pinched closed. He could feel himself start to crest, the first tingles of the end, but staved them off by pure will. His thumb returned, “I want to do so much more to you, but there’s just no time.”

She watched him with hooded eyes as his fingers continued, as his cock worked her from the inside, in and out, her lips swelling around him, their pulsing strengthening over the base of his shaft, her insides clenching tighter… Their chests rose and fell together in quick succession, their eyes connected conveying the same message, “I’m going to come.” 

Her nails dug deep into his ass and pushed him in, balls deep, at the precise moment the peak of pleasure crashed into him. Scully was writhing, sending lasers of sensations that racked his body from head to toe. He cried out, burying his face in her shoulder, feeling her fingers thread through the back of his hair, soothing him back to earth. 

Slowly he pulled his hips away from hers, taking stock of her body, her flushed cheeks, her rapid breaths, her hair damp along the hairline, the gleam in her eyes. 

Scully adjusted her skirt and straightened her blouse as best she could. He might have an iron somewhere she could use.

He wanted to tell her he loved her. How incredibly special it was for him to be with her. Wanted to tell her so many things...

**Winston-Salem, N.C. 8:32 a.m.**

They pulled up at the victim's house in a Pontiac Grand Prix GTP, a little more zip than the usual Ford, but Scully surmised the car went along with the little pep in Mulder’s step. His fingers had intertwined with hers some time after getting in the car and hadn’t loosened since. The warm intense radiance of his gaze burned as green as kryptonite and had the same effect, stripping her of any powers she had of keeping her profound feelings for him at bay. “Mulder, I know he probably already has some suspicion, but if we don’t want to hold up a megaphone announcing to Skinner, if we want to be discreet, you’re going to have to let go of my hand, and you definitely have to stop looking at me like that.”

That curled the edges of Mulder’s lips. “Like what?”

“Like I just gave you the keys to your very own ARV and told you E.T. was riding shotgun.” 


	13. Smoke Gets In Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place during Mulder's two week recovery during "Brand X" and the last scene of the episode with that little bit of foreshadowing. Vince Gilligan must cringe now when he thinks of that, now being the master of such things in Breaking Bad and Better Call Saul. I mean, come on, Scully is an FBI agent. She doesn't notice her light board all aglow on top of his head with MRI scans that she didn't put there? um, okay. So, how do we deal with this and her look of shock when Doggett hands her Mulder's medical records(The Patriot Act wasn't put into effect until the 26th of Oct. 2001, how was Doggett able to legally obtain Mulder's medical records?) in s8. All this and more will be revealed, but first let's heal Mulder's lungs.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50553227917/in/dateposted/)

Mulder’s lungs were clear. Not by a miracle or some supernatural phenomenon, but from science and some Scully ingenuity. Her focus now, helping him heal, but not all Mulder’s health issues had subsided. Scully blinked hard and drew in a cold breath that iced her spine, like liquid metal up into her shoulder blades. The diagnostic radiologist repeated in detail the information provided by the scan. Scully’s stomach turned. The results were startling. Mulder’s brain was riddled with scar tissue and the effects of abnormal brain activity. 

“This is alarming,” Scully said, trying her best to stay professional, using all her capabilities to push her emotions back beneath the surface, to view the numbers and not the man.

“I agree. The severity is concerning and none of this coincides with the results from a lack of oxygen to the brain. We can rule out cerebral hypoxia,” the lung doctor concluded.

*

Nearly dark, Scully slowly turned the knob and edged open her apartment door. Concerned Mulder may have fallen asleep, she knew he needed his rest. 

“Hey,” Mulder rasped out as she flicked on the light switch.

“You’re awake.” Scully removed her coat and put the bag of prescriptions down on her table. She saw him straining to tell her something. “Try not to speak. You’ll get your voice back faster if you rest it.”

He nodded, rubbing the trachea area of his neck. 

“Did you eat?” she asked, taking out the soup her mother had made for him and heating it up on the stove. The deep aroma of chicken and veggies filling the room. 

Mulder shook his head.

“You need to eat to keep your strength up,” Scully delicately scolded and retrieved a thermometer, holding it for him to place under his tongue.

Mulder shook his head again and curled his top lip. “Open up Mulder, or else I’ve got other places I can stick this.”

He opened his mouth in protest, like a child forced to eat their unwanted vegetables. The thermometer bounced around his lips as he coughed, having trouble breathing solely from his nasal passages, the muscles of his neck bulging and straining with every swallow. It would be some weeks until he was back to normal, but he was alive and that was enough for Scully. 

“Have you been able to rest?” Scully asked. Mulder shook his head once again. She took the thermometer from his mouth. “98.1.”

His breathing, a little more shallow then she would have preferred, but according to the machine, his SpO2 level had not fallen below 95%. Still, when she saw him strain and panic with a simple walk to the bathroom, she insisted on using assisted oxygen whenever he was off the couch. 

Methodically, Scully blended Mulder’s portion of the soup and poured it into a mug, testing it to confirm the temp to be only lukewarm. With more calories in him, Mulder began to perk up. “Did the doctor get the lab results back?” he rasped.

“Yes. He did not see any signs of long term damage in your lungs.” Scully watched Mulder carefully looking for a twitch or avoidance of the eyes that might give way to him knowing more. “The doctor does want to make a follow-up appointment with you to review your complete work up.” Nothing. Not even a flinch. He didn’t know. 

“I’m going to draw you a bath,” Scully gave him a weak smile. “You can check that off of your mental list of things I never did for you.”

That lightened his features and he followed slowly behind as she explained to him the benefits of the vapor for his bronchial passageways. 

She checked on him only twice, ignoring his request for a sponge bath, but allowing her mind to go there anyway. He needed some help toweling off, the hot steam weakening his system. The towel kissed and caressed his skin, running it over his chest and abs, removing strayed droplets. She retained her professionalism, but his tender eyes drew her into a sensual haze. His elevated heartbeat under her stethoscope confirmed his mutual affection. 

“Heart sounds strong, lungs are much better, capillary refill acceptable, blood pressure is normal, skin tone is good.” Scully smiled out of reassurance and relief.

The days passed. With Mulder out on medical leave, Scully designated herself to the forensics lab and assisted with teaching at Quantico. Once his strength started returning, she could feel his frustrations build due to her insistence to rest and concentrate on rehabilitation. It didn’t stop her from inconspicuously checking his cognitive functions.

“Mulder, I was looking for a casefile yesterday; it was one we opened probably three years ago. Had similar autopsy findings to a body I had just autopsied and I wanted to compare. You recall a case where we found muscle tissue located in the epidermis?” 

She watched the file cabinet in his brain open, the rolodex of files spin. He recited dates, locations, relative histories in both Greek and Egyptian origins. Fables and mythos. No signs of memory loss. When questioned about recent events, he even recalled where she had dropped her keys, the answer to yesterday’s Jeopardy question, and the time she had returned home that day. A name she slipped in during dinner conversation he recalled moments later. No agraphia. Possibly, although unlikely, an error had occurred inside the MRI. On recommendations from some colleagues, she contacted a scientist that specialized in asymptomatic neurological disorders.

His eyes followed her backside when she bent to retrieve a spoon she purposefully dropped. She tossed him the remote for the VCR and he caught it with one hand. Motor functions behaving normally. It just didn’t add up.

In the morning, Scully laid out his shave kit the way she’d seen him do it countless times before in different motel rooms while discussing a case. She hung a towel and tried her best to situate everything so he would not be overly exerting himself. Needing to not be late for work, she left him the house.

Two weeks later...

Alone in Scully’s apartment, Mulder stayed busy leafing through the piles from almost 30 different newspapers, cutting articles, taking notes in the margins. A single hard knock directed Mulder’s eyes to the door. A newspaper slipped underneath. He wearily rose, expending all his breath to bend down and retrieve the paper. A quick flip and a cursory glance. It was a rag paper, nothing to be taken seriously, but a circled article about a man that was cured of his cancer claiming another man ingested his sickness grabbed Mulder’s attention. They had met such a man. A man by the name of Leonard Betts. Could there be another one like him out there? Was he using his gifts for good or just biding his time until business waned and he had to resort to the same type of killing as Leonard? Whoever had shoved the article under the doorway knew he was staying with Scully, but he highly doubted whoever it was had a connection to the Smoking Man. He had done enough with Scully, leading her into the woods like Red Riding Hood offering her the porridge to cure all disease. Okay, he had messed up that analogy, but no one was around to know it but him. There was a location and time at the bottom of the page. Whoever this newest informant happened to be, he wasn’t wasting time. 

The first thing he had to do was get dressed. His lungs stung with every inhale, every exhale too, but adrenaline and a delicious mix of dopamine and oxytocin now pumped through Mulder’s veins, like a fresh hit of cocaine, giving him enough strength to push through it. Not finding what he was searching for, he picked up his cell to call Scully. Dead. He used her house phone instead. 

“Scully.” 

Mulder opened his mouth to talk, but merely coughed. 

“Mulder?” she asked.

“Yea,” he strained out, coughing halfway though.

“Mulder, is everything all right? Do you need me to come home?” He could hear the sudden panic in her voice.

He slowed his breathing and concentrated in a hoarse whisper. “My clothes.”

“Oh,” Scully said, understanding. “They’re probably all in the hamper. I haven’t had a chance to run by the cleaners.”

“It’s okay,” Mulder returned. “See you tonight.” It was all he could get out. He wrangled the clothes that didn’t reek and with the least amount of wrinkles, and put them on. His hand wrapped around the door knob at the same time his stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten yet today. 

Roaming through Scully’s fridge, he found it mostly empty, a couple eggs, yogurt, and two day old Chinese food. He chose the carton of Kung Pao chicken, took the metal handle out of the cardboard and heated it in the microwave. With a plastic fork he found in a narrow drawer dedicated to plastic utensils, he scarfed it down his throat while hailing a cab. The fresh air chilling his lungs and tickling his throat. He barked out the directions to the driver and they were off. 

A narrow alleyway met a silhouette of broad shoulders and long limbs. Mulder rolled his tongue around his mouth. He couldn’t have expected less.

“You can stop there, Agent Mulder,” said the figure. “Do you believe in the existence of a soul-eater?”

“You’re not even going to buy me dinner first?” Mulder shot back. “I have had a case in the past with a cancer-eater, a fat-eater, a brain-eater, cannibals, but soul-eater may be new.”

“If the lore is true, it consumes all sickness. Pain.”

The man’s voice was raspy. Almost as if his larynx had been set on fire. “I need you to find this… thing.. this person.. whatever it is.”

Mulder peeled his eyes, his hands rested at his hips. “So you’re sick and you want me to be your whipping boy if all does not go to plan.”

“I’ve been experimented on. Same as Agent Scully. Same as you. I am dying. All I want is a chance at redemption. A chance to live a life  _ our _ father has denied me otherwise.”

Mulder tilted his head, forcing his eyes to see. “Jeffrey? We were told that you resigned. You left without a trace.”

“Our father shot me and then his men dragged me off. When I came to, they had me shackled. That’s when the tests began. With help, I escaped, but not unscathed. I must stay in the shadows or they’ll take me back. This is my only chance. I need you on this.”

Mulder didn’t question Jeffrey further. Didn’t ask how he knew about Mulder’s condition. Instead, he watched Jeffrey place a notepad on the closed dumpster besides him. “A woman will be contacting you shortly. We’ll meet soon after,” he said. Then he took a step back, disappearing into the night. Mulder picked up the pad. There was a location, name and phone number. A lead. An X-File.

By the time he got home, it felt like a bonfire was let loose in Mulder’s chest cavity. The opening of his airways, no bigger than a swizzle stick. Scully’s voice rang from his answering machine and he didn’t have the air left in him, but he knew better than to not answer. “Mul.. *cough*”

“You haven’t been resting, Mulder. I can hear it in your voice. You have to rest if you want to heal.”

Mulder drank down a glass of water to coat his throat. “I’m going to lie down now,” he said.

There was a pause and Mulder’s heart sank a little. He was so caught up with his informant he didn’t realize what going back to his apartment meant. “You’re staying there tonight,” Scully concluded, softly.

“I’ll call you in the morning,” he offered.

Three days later...

Mulder woke from his couch to a sharp rap at the door. He rubbed his eyes open with the heel of his hand. To his surprise, it was Margaret Scully.

“Mrs…”

“..please, save your voice,” Maggie interrupted. The way she said it was like she had just offered him a steaming hot cup of cocoa. “And it’s Maggie.”

He nodded and waved his arm open to let her in. “Dana told me of your condition,” she said. “It’s terrible what happened. I wanted to help.” She set the bag of groceries she had on his counter and eyed his dirty dishes. She reprimanded him with one motherly glare and then her eyes perused his coffee table and bottles of pills. “Have you been taking your medication?”

“I-uh, I might have only used the inhaler last night. I just got up, so I haven’t taken it yet this morning.”

“You must take them on time Fox. I’ll get you some water. Set an alarm as a reminder if you need to.”

Mulder followed the pills with the cool glass of water down his throat. They burned like razor blades on the way down. “I’m going to shower and get dressed,” he said in a gravelly voice, hoping the hot steam would open up his bronchial tubes. 

When he returned from the bedroom, the living room had a fresh smell of Murphy’s oil soap, his magazines were stacked, newspapers in order, and the kitchen no longer had the odor of stewed mold. In fact, it was spotless. 

“You did all this when I was in the shower?” 

“It’s what I do, Fox.”

“Clean?”

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Take care of my children.”

Mulder blushed. “Thank you.”

Maggie stayed and fixed breakfast. Even watched a football game with him. “Bill and I always watched the Army Navy game every year.” Then they watched the Knicks until Mulder fell asleep on the couch with her sitting besides him. He felt the warmth of his blanket as she covered him and her soft parental lips at his forehead. Her overwhelming caring sent a single tear down his cheek. “You have my number. Use it,” she reminded him. “Goodnight, Fox.” He listened to her shoes click against the hardwood. “And don’t forget to take your medication.” The front door opened. “There are people who care about you, Fox. Take care of yourself.” The light by the door dimmed and the latch clicked as it engaged.

*

The possible case had given Mulder new light. What if this man was a true shaman healer? He would wait on the woman’s call, but in the meantime he could still do research. Needing his files, but without a clearance from his doctor, Mulder decided to go to the office. The lung doctor had communicated the MRI results, and Mulder gave him the information to send to his neurologist. His condition had worsened. It was doubtful the neurologist would clear him for work, but Scully might. Maybe it was time to come clean. Or maybe it was time to find another way.

Back in the basement, he found it much neater and organized than he left it. He wasted no time sifting through his files and pulling any that concerned sin-eaters, soul-eaters, or anything similar, stowing them in his briefcase. Just being there for the short time he felt the pressure at his chest. While he was there he decided to complete and turn in the tobacco case report. 

He booted up his computer and looked for the files on the tobacco case, but they were nowhere to be found. No matter, he knew Scully kept her notes on her hard drive. He walked to the back of the office and sat down at her computer, going through what she had written, then started on his own, but stopped after a couple strokes. Mulder had to blink twice as his eyes floated towards the boards above her computer. Lit up, in all its glory, was his brain. Scully’s lightboard was on, and his scans were attached. His name clearly indicated in the top left corner. The lung doctor must have given her the results, she was, after all, his physician. Butterflies hatched in his stomach and fire ants burned inside his chest. He played with the paperclip he found on the desk, stretching and molding it to the point beyond use while he decided the best way to handle the situation. This would not be easy. 

“Hey,” Scully said almost surprised as she entered the office. She knew today he had been scheduled to return to work and had been tipped off that he was in the building, but Mulder wasn’t at his usual desk, he was at hers. 

She acted casual, maybe he didn’t know it was his MRI results on display. “Good to be back?” She asked as she crossed her arms and leaned against the glass partition.

He shrugged. “Considering the alternative..”

“Well, you’ll be interested to know that Morley tobacco has subpoenaed all of our files.” 

He turned to face her and stopped his typing, interlacing his hands at his lap, letting her know she had his full attention. 

“They seem extremely interested in your recovery.” _And so am I, she thought._ _How did she tell him the full recovery from his brain surgery may not have been a recovery after all?_

“What about Darrel Weaver?” Mulder pressed on.

“He’s, uh, well enough to have been moved to the hospital ward at Raleigh Correctional.”

“It was the nicotine itself that was keeping him alive?”

“Well his fingertips were stained yellow with it. He was a four-pack-a-day smoker, far heavier than any of the focus group members who died. You know nicotine is extremely poisonous. It’s actually one of the oldest known insecticides.”

“It’s good for killing tobacco beetles.”

“Well, once we loaded your system up with enough of it, it acted as a sort of chemotherapy, except it almost stopped your breathing at the same time.”  _ Which is why we had to administer the MRI, to use as an indicator as to whether you had suffered any brain damage from the restricted oxygen during your bout with the insects _ .  _ Instead we discovered… How was he still alive? Functioning without symptoms? _

“That’s not all it did,” he said, bringing her out of her reverie, getting up from the chair and heading back to his desk. A sly smirk spread on his face. “Bought these on the way to work.”

He sat on the edge of his desk rotating in his right hand, a closed package of cigarettes.

Her face looked almost frightful, her mouth agape, her eyes bulged. “You’re not going to start smoking.”

“Well, they say the addiction is stronger than heroin,” he replied, shoving the closed package underneath his nostrils and taking a deep inhale to get a good whiff of tobacco leaves.

“Mulder.” Her eyes darkened and her tone had lost all sense of joking.

They exchanged a long look that said, we both know your body can’t take anymore, not to mention what cigarettes represent. Namely, the Smoking Man.

He took a long look, considering his condition, conditions, it probably didn’t matter if he smoked  _ two _ packs a day, but he wasn’t going out like that. He threw it in the trash unopened. Scully nodded her head in relief and approval. “Good. Skinner’s waiting for us in his office.”

“I’ll be right up,” he nodded, but the last look they exchanged told him she still had doubts whether or not he was going to pick that pack back up. She knew he was tempted. Then she held their gaze even longer, reading him; he knew it was to see if he had noticed the scans. He cleared his mind, and stared back blankly as to not give away his cards. Not yet.

He watched her leave and then glanced at the wastebasket, the cigarettes staring back at him, still calling to him. He got up and returned to her computer in the back of the office. He had more pressing addictions to obsess over. 

He leaned back in the chair and fiddled with the paperclip, feeling around its smooth curves, cleaning under his nails with its sharp edge. As difficult as it would be to say aloud, he couldn’t keep her from the truth. Besides the lecture he had given her about keeping the truth from him with her cancer, besides her being his keeper for the truth, keeping him honest, what he was doing to her would be no different than what his mother and father did to him, and how he felt about his mother never telling him she had been dying. He couldn’t put Scully through that.

He sat back up in the chair, finished typing up the paperwork and hit print, grabbed it from the printer and paused. He reached over and flicked the switch to the light board, turning it off, then headed upstairs to Skinner’s office.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50553103516/in/dateposted/)

The office seemed darker when they returned. A fluorescent bulb had dimmed over Mulder’s desk. Considering how often the janitor came this way, he was better off fixing it himself. Scully, headed straight to the back of the office, her posture stiff, her legs with an even gate. Mulder’s chest felt like it was back in a vice as he watched her light up her board. She stood staring at it without speaking. Her arms crossed, her front toe tapping. Shit. They were doing this now. 

He watched her throat constrict as she swallowed hard. Her eyebrow twitched and her lips formed almost, but not quite, that of a pout. He beared down trying to ignore the tingling in his spine. “Mulder, when I found out about my cancer, the first thing I did was contact you.”

Mulder went to shake his head, but it wound up rotating almost in a circle. “Whatever you’re trying to say, just say it.”

She turned to look him almost dead in the eyes. “Mulder, your temporal lobe is completely emaciated.”

He shook his head. Struggling to catch the breath she had sucked from him. It was difficult to admit to her such truths. “The doctors say it is possible to live without a temporal lobe.” 

“But not without severe repercussions. What I’m looking at…”

“...Don’t look at that. Look at me. Do I have any symptoms of someone functioning with temporal lobe damage? Brain disease?”

“But Mulder, it doesn’t make any…” 

“...sense? No, it doesn’t make any sense in any real world way, but neither does anything else that happened to me.”

Scully clenched her fists against her arms. Always the Doubting Thomas.

“I don’t know why or how,” he backtracked. “What I do know is I’ve never been happier in my life and, actually, with the acception of my recent battle with the beetles, I’ve never felt better.”

Scully didn’t hide the concern and anguish in her eyes from Mulder. It made him feel as though piranhas were eating at his heart. “Scully, if I start to slide, if you see any signs of a decrease at all in my cognitive abilities… you would know, you  _ know _ me. I just, I feel good.”

She tightened her lip, but shook her head in defeat. “You’re right. Science is only beginning to understand what happened to you. You would have to be studied. Tested.” 

“A lab rat.”

She inhaled as if she was ready to put up another argument, but instead said, “Okay, I’ll let it go. As long as there is no deterioration.” She let out another long breath of air. Even softer she repeated, “I’ll let it go.” 

As long as he exhibited no cognitive deterioration, it may be enough to stop the preparing, researching, analyzing, compartmentalizing, and identifying of sources of treatment Scully would undoubtedly perform at the first sign. There was only one thing left.  “Human Resources will need paperwork to return me to full duty.”

Scully looked up at his eyes, the royal blue shimmering and holding his heart. A tincture of hope within the golden specs. “I’ll get it filed today.”

Mulder nodded, clenching his jaw, relief at her consent, but he saw other thoughts cloud her eyes. The world slowed to a crawl at the grief she couldn’t hide. With a splotchy face and a shaky breath she whispered, “Mulder.”

With a stab of anguish his brows narrowed and he pulled her into his arms, she stole his breath with a hug. Her arms wrapped around his torso and he tightened his around her, pressing them together. Her head fell to his chest and her tendril flames licked at his heart. 

Two Days Later...

“I want to thank you for returning my call, Doctor. So, you’re saying this is something you’ve seen before,” Scully said with hopeful eyes to the scientist. 

“We have patients where we have no convincing explanation for both delay in onset of neurological symptoms or the genesis of the neuropsychological syndrome.”

“What is your theory of causation?”

“I have one that may satisfy both constraints. Circulating hormones such as cortisol, together with a nitric oxide and oxidant free radicals from glutamatergic hyper-stimulation, act on tissues remote from the injury path including the hippocampus, enabling bridges to be formed around the damaged neurons and nerve cells.”

Scully released a breath and felt a tsunami of relief so strong she almost laughed from the rush. “The brain then has the ability to repair itself.”

“Precisely. Your patient could push our research forward years, open up paths for research and treatment options.”

Scully nodded curtly, her lips forming a thin line as she grasped her hands around the lab’s door handle. She thought of Samantha, herself as an abductee, of Gibson and how desperately he didn’t want to be a lab rat. Mulder would never be a human test subject. Not as long as she had any control over it. 


	14. I'll Put on my Suit and Tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're post Hollywood A.D. and Mulder and Scully are celebrating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wouldn't it have been great if Mulder eating from the fake Lazarus bowl at the end was actual foreshadowing of his death and resurrection in s8? No? Scully really makes me smile in that last scene. Her giddiness and playfulness and touching of Mulder. *Sigh*

_“What bout us? How are we going to be remembered now ‘cause of this movie?”_

_“Well, hopefully the movie will tank.”_

_“What about all the dead people who are forever silent and can’t tell their stories anymore? They’re all going to have to rely on Hollywood to show the future how we lived, and it will all become oversimplified and trivialized and cigarett-smoking pontificized, and become as plastic and meaningless as this stupid plastic Lazarus bowl.”_

_“I think the dead are beyond caring what people think about them. Hopefully we can adopt the same attitude. You know there aren’t real dead people out there, right? That this is a movie set?”_

_“The dead are everywhere, Scully.”_

_Scully chuckled. “Well… we’re alive. And we’re relatively young, and Skinner was so tickled by the movie…”_

_“I bet he was..”_

_“That he has given us a Bureau credit card to use for the evening.”_

_They shared a laugh and she grabbed his arm. “Come on.”_

_“Mulder, I have something to confess.”_

_“What’s that?”_

_“I’m in love with Associate Producer Walter Skinner.”_

_They shared another whole hearted laugh, holding hands, Mulder adding, “Ah me too.”_

Mulder and Scully piled into their limo, Mulder directing the driver towards the beach. 

“No Hollywood hills for us, Mulder?” Scully asked as she pulled the edge of her dress towards her knee.

“I just want to be around something real,” Mulder replied, staring out at the ugly soundstage buildings as they passed, cement covered ground for miles. “Some sand, the water, breathe in some fresh smog..”

Scully knew how wholeheartedly he cared to seek justice for others, to expose their truths, both good and bad, but never had she seen him contemplate what people might think of him or how he might be viewed or recorded in the annals of history.“Mulder, why the sudden caring for how others tell your story?”

Mulder locked into Scully’s gaze watching as the glow of the city lights danced across her face. They were alive. For at least as long as tonight and he wanted to live. “You’re right, it’s not a concern, because you’ll be here to tell it.”

He knew instantly by the look on her face that even a hint of that future hit too close to home and it was not a road he wanted to travel on again with her, especially not tonight. Grasping, he offered a distraction, turning on some music and popping open the bottle of champagne, pouring both of them a glass. 

They downed their glasses fairly quickly, Mulder’s care dwindling with each solid gulp. He could feel the warmth of Scully’s soft touch right through the fabric of his coat. 

On an impulse, Mulder sent the divider up inside the car, immediately sending Scully’s eyebrows up as well. “What are you up to, Mulder?”

Scully held his gaze and the flicker in her eye made him realize the question wasn’t arbitrary and he wasn't certain exactly how to answer. He opened his mouth, but luckily she cut him off. "How do your lungs feel? Any wheezing, coughing or soreness?"

"I'm good as new," he responded, but he was staring at her dress creeping up the closer she inched towards him. Scully laid her hand and her ear to his chest. “Scully, what are you doing?” he asked, nervously laughing, all the blood in his body rushing to his cock. Being that close in that dress, looking that beautiful, it was impossible to not have a reaction. 

“Relax, Mulder, it's not like I’m going to restrain you,” Scully joked, looking up into his eyes. Then she paused. “That is unless you want me too?” 

Pictures flashed into his mind, his jaw clenched, his eyes perused Scully’s body. Giving Scully the full reigns to their pleasure sparked a dark interest. Scully rolled his jacket off his shoulders and her face being so close to his forced his eyes closed and the next thing he felt was the warmth of her lips against his. He shirked his jacket the rest of the way off as their kiss grew deeper and more frantic. Slipping her hands to her own hips, Scully worked at the material, forcing her nylons down past her ankles and off into her purse.

A boulder of nerves dropped into his stomach, and it sent shockwaves through every cell in his body. He was used to having to hold back his emotions and desires for her. Her sudden movements surprised him, but they were away from watchful eyes and farther away from the office and, well, as she said, although it was nearly 3 weeks ago now since it left her lips, she _was_ in love with him. 

He ran his hands on either side of her toned legs, the ones winding tight around his hips as she sat on his lap, causing his heart to pound sharply in his chest. He stared at her lips, then her nipples, hard enough to see through her bra and dress. Mulder's throat went dry. This was really happening.

She lifted and rubbed hard against him, kissing him, her sex soaking through onto his pants, his boxers, he thrusted his hips up reflexively against her, needing their connection. He brought his hands up to palm her breasts and his cell phone rang and after some fumbling, he answered it, his left hand kneading Scully through the fabric. “Mulder.”

“It’s Jeff.”

Mulder put the phone between his shoulder and cheek, cupping both her breasts again, pinching at the tight ball of each nipple through her dress, cinching the fabric. Scully, who was about to question him, coated her lips right before her jaw dropped and eyes hooded. 

“I can’t really talk right now,” Mulder said to Jeffrey, his eyes on Scully, his erection knocking against his zipper. “My hands are full.”

“Mulder, I believe this is the real deal, but we need to go to Pennsylvania. I wanted to leave tonight.”

“I’m in L.A.”

“You on another case?”

Mulder took another intoxicating look at Scully’s cleavage, pushing her creamy hills closer together. Scully already had his tie undone and was already wrapping it tightly around his wrists. “Look, I’ll call you when I get back, I’m really tied up right now.”

“But Mul-”

Mulder let the phone drop off his shoulder onto the leather seat and Scully picked it up and ended the signal. She looked at the caller ID, but the call said restricted. “Who was that?”

“Possible new informant,” Mulder said, leaning forward to kiss her, but she backed away, Mulder falling, with his hands tied up and no way to properly brace himself, landing right in her lap.

He edged closer to her and kissed the inside of her thigh by her knee, his trepidation gone as the champagne went to his head and the sight of her sex closer to his lips. Slowly, he glided up the inside of her legs with his tongue, his eyes taking in the perfection between her legs. Her hands dove into his hair once his mouth reached her clit, her foot against his shoulder, his tongue moving over her sensitive folds. She gasped and pressed against his mouth, her quads tightening as he flattened his tongue for long languid licks. Scully ground against his face. She tasted so good, sweet and sharp, her hips going wild. Mulder’s cock nearly exploded just watching and feeling her getting off against his tongue, lips, chin. Her breath hitched and she moaned a long drawn out, “Muuuulder.”

Once Mulder felt the pulsing throughout her body settle, Mulder lifted his face away and looked up towards the window. “We’re here.”

Scully turned her head to see the beachy parking lot and quickly untied him, both fixing themselves to be semi-presentable in case people were around. 

As they walked along the beach, hand in hand, Mulder smiling down into Scully eyes, Scully beaming up at him, sharing cracks and one-liners, they came across a couple getting married. Scully tried not to stare, but she couldn’t help but pause watching as the intricate wedding procession made their way towards the trellis and the preacher. 

A breeze came and Scully shivered, Mulder instinctively wrapped himself around her back. They watched for a while, fascinated by the spectacle. A bit of normalcy they hardly ever stopped to take part in. She glanced at Mulder as they moved on. She had been expecting him to make a few cracks about weddings, but he had been unusually silent through it all.

“That was beautiful,” she told him.

He just nodded, pursing his lips and looking down at their joined hands.

They walked by where kids dressed in their Sunday best were running around the beach and couples in tuxedos and fancy dresses were walking. 

“That must be another wedding,” Mulder said. 

A fancy building with long white columns and floor to ceiling windows came into view, like it belonged to a country club. “Reception,” Scully corrected.

“Let’s go.”

“To the wedding? You want to crash a wedding? Mulder…”

Mulder waggled his eyebrows and squeezed her hand. “Come on. It’s not like we’re not dressed for it.”

The party had just been picking up steam when they arrived, with more friends and relatives making their way inside. Mulder and Scully introduced themselves to whoever strolled by. If the couple was from the groom’s side, Mulder and Scully would say they knew the bride, and vice versa. 

“See, I told you this would be fun,” Mulder said, patting Scully’s behind. 

Scully looked at him sideways. “Mulder, I don’t believe that’s necessary.”

He feigned surprise at her response. “Isn’t that what married couples do?”

“Not if the husband doesn’t want an amputation,” she mumbled back.

There was a pretty wide age range on the dance floor, from the very young to the young at heart. In the corner there was even someone trying to teach a woman how to tango.

Mulder grabbed two untouched champagne glasses off the dais and they toasted.

“Didn’t you say you’re from England? Your accent seems to have faded,” said Uncle Joe, the latest to approach them.

Scully quickly recovered with, “I’ve lived in the states so long now, it fades at times. You’ve got quite the hillbilly twang yourself.”

Mulder smiled at her with admiration. Nice response. 

“How did you say you knew the bride and groom?” Uncle Joe persisted, a small crowd around them now. It seemed people had started to compare notes and realized their stories didn’t quite add up.

Taken off guard and starting to get concerned, Scully backed towards the exit tugging at Mulder’s arm. “Mulder, I think the..” But her words were drowned out by a man full of life crying, “Darling!” flinging his arms wide and running towards Mulder. 

“What took you so long? I thought you’d never get here,” the man cried.

Mulder stiffened, his eyes widening at the sight of the man bearing down on him like a hawk to its prey.

It was like watching a car crash in slow motion, as the man leaped in the air and collided with full frontal contact against Mulder. Then he wrapped his arms around Mulder’s shoulders and kissed him hard, right on the lips.

Mulder took a giant step back, as much from the force of the man’s momentum as from his own shock. It had definitely made the list of one of the funniest things Scully had ever seen. 

“You’re naughty to keep me waiting here without a date, baby,” the man giggled, pulling a bemused Mulder toward a cluster of onlookers. “And to bring your hag, no less.” He nodded towards Scully who crossed her arms and raised up both eyebrows. Then the man addressed the bride’s parents. “They’re with me, and since I’m the best man, I’m allowed two guests. Ask the groom, he’ll just say, “That’s Jaime.”

Muder spout out, “Wait…”

Jaime grabbed Mulder by the jaw and manually turned his face towards the crowd. “Isn’t he just delicious.”

“I’m not-” Mulder tried to explain deciding this might be too far, but Jaime finished, “having fun yet? Because you’ve got to get on the floor and dance honey.” He looked Mulder from head to toe. “Work that thang.”

Jaime could not have been more obvious, his delivery so flamboyantly outlandish, Scully couldn’t believe none of them started laughing.

Mulder’s gaze skittered around the group, blinking at each introduction from Jaime like an alien waking up on another planet, finally locking eyes with Scully. He nodded imperceptibly, except to Scully’s keen knowing eyes. “Sounds like we’re being beckoned to dance,” he said to Scully, slipping his arm around Jaime.

Scully stared into her drink, wondering how it had emptied so fast. Was there a hole in her glass? She held it up, but couldn’t find one. 

“Let me get you another one of those, go, I’ll meet you out on the floor,” Jaime said and headed off. 

Mulder held his arm out to Scully, and she gripped him at his elbow. He put an extra snap in his hip as they strolled, for good measure.

Jaime met them on the dance floor handing them both Mai Tais with fruit and umbrellas. “Well, that went about as good as it could have, considering,” Jaime chuckled out of earshot.

“What made you come to our rescue?” Scully asked, already diving into the maraschino cherry attached to her drink. 

“I’ve crashed a wedding or two myself, I’m not turning away a fun couple.” He pushed his straw out of the way and drank from his glass. He threw his arm back around Mulder. “He’s a cutie.”

Then he patted Mulder on the back. “Go ahead. Eat. Dance. Have fun. The bride and groom are loaded. Not to mention loaded.”

Mulder tugged Scully by the hand. “Dance with me?”

Scully smiled. “I’m pretty good, you know.”

“I know,” Mulder smirked back. “So am I.”

The band played a slow waltz. Sliding into Mulder’s arms felt as comfortable as an old man’s recliner and dancing with him as easy as walking in her favorite fuzzy slippers. They danced for a song. Then another. Cheek to forehead, in each other’s embrace.

Jamie caught Mulder’s eye and gave him two thumbs up. Scully chuckled. They had made a new friend.

The music slowed and so did their sway. Mulder looked into her eyes. “How about we take a break and get some air?”

His face relaxed and he smiled as he pulled her from the dance floor. They moved away from the crowd, until they stood in the sand, under the moonlight. Scully breathed in the smell of the water and the cooling sand. It was a smell that always brought happy memories. And here, a new memory. They walked to the water’s edge listening to the waves, leaning against the other. 

Scully inhaled deeply as she continued to gaze out onto the water, sparkling from the reflection of the moon.

She could feel his stare probing her like a physical touch. When she turned her head and met his eyes, his look of so many possibilities caused a tingling bliss to spread low in her belly. 

Mulder lowered his chin until it was hovering just above hers. She smelled his woodsy scent and her heart thudded against her rib cage, holding her breath in anticipation.

Mulder was all that existed in that moment. Not the vast ocean or crashing waves on the shore. Just their private bubble only now it steamed with that little something more. 

Light flashed across the sky and Scully looked out to the dark horizon. It was followed by the sharp crack of thunder.

Mulder looked up at the sky. “I think we better get outta here.” 

Nature decided to reply before Scully, rain pouring down in dense sheets instantly soaking them.

“This way,” Mulder shouted to be heard over the downpour, grabbing Scully’s hand and leading her under the boardwalk. 

With zero visibility from the heavens opening up, Scully kept her head down and feet moving, trusting Mulder to lead them to dry land.

Once under the canopy of wood, Mulder held her close, the warmth of his hard muscled planes against her back, rubbing her shoulders as the sudden chill had her shivering. Their eyes met and they shared a chuckle, it was just like them to get stuck in the rain. His hand slowed, warming her body from the inside and out. His gaze blazed in a fierce gleam that made her speechless. Mulder leaned in halfway and she pressed her lips to his. It was gentle, soft, romantic. Her hands gripping his lean muscled shoulders as his mouth moved against hers.

The wind roared, thunder cracked, and rain poured and tapped on the wood above. She felt Mulder’s hands creep along her outer thighs, pushing her skirt higher. He broke their kiss, his chest heaving, giving her a questioning look, “Are we really doing this?”

The answer for her was yes, she needed him, after so much time caring for him recovering from the tobacco beetles invading his lungs and worrying of his recovery.

Scully loved the anticipation, the feeling of heat inside his loose suit pants, his thick steel-hard cock packed behind his zipper like a gift. There was something hot about unfastening his button and slowly lowering the teeth of his zipper, watching the love in his eyes fill with desire and pleasure as her hand dipped behind his waistband. 

Mulder, guided by her other hand leaned back against the cool sand. As his hands caressed her hips, she effortlessly lined them up, guided like magnets being drawn together. She slid around him and he filled her, a groan ripping from his throat, and once again, all that existed was them. 

Scully’s face stayed buried at his chest as his hands gripped her ass tightly, her insides stroking his length with each rotation and flick of her hips. 

“Scully,” he moaned in a low sultry tone that could have competed with Barry White. Mulder gasped as her walls gripped him, the sting of his fingers digging into her skin, had her tightening the coil of release. 

It was an exquisite mix of pleasure and insatiable need slamming into her. Another of his moans vibrated through her and she spread kisses along his damp neck, her tongue licking up from his collarbone. His alluring scent enveloped her at the same time he rose up to meet her lips and he did it with such caring, such tenderness that her control just snapped, like an animal unleashed. Her girations went into overdrive, riding him faster and harder. The wind roared above them and up under the boardwalk, sounding like a freight train bearing down on them, heightening her senses. She was close to going up over the edge, Mulder holding her tighter, saying, “It’s okay Scully, let go.”

Her inner walls clamped down on him as she arched her back, and her body began to shake, somewhere inside her bliss she felt Mulder vibrating, his cock pumping heat up into her. He pushed the back of his head into the sand and his eyes closed, his jaw slack, releasing a harsh groan of satisfaction into the night.

He sat up while still inside her holding her close to him “You mean so much, Scully,” he said as if her knowing was all that mattered to him.

They waited for the rain to taper before walking back to the limo and running up the Bureau credit card on some dry clothes, fine dining and a little more dancing until finally returning to the hotel. Scully felt a twinge of discomfort as they made their way across the sand. She might have been a little overzealous, but how could she not be with a man she cared for with so much of her soul. 

Mulder laid down on the hotel bed, Scully still in his arms. She snuggled up against his side, her head lying on his chest. He ran his hand up and down her back, and a feeling unlike anything else, unique only when he was around Scully, welled up inside of him. It was strong yet gentle. It was overwhelming yet comforting. It was terrifying yet peaceful. 

It was love.

And he wanted to tell her. Right then. Or else he may burst. 

“Scully,” he spoke against the top of her head. “I’m in love with you.”

Her cheek was lying against his chest so he was sure that she could feel the rapid pounding of his heart as he waited for her reaction. 

A snort came from her parted lips. She was sound asleep.

Amusement spread across his face as he gently kissed the top of her head and whispered, “I love you.”

He had to admit that he was relieved she had drifted off. He wasn’t sure what her reaction would be, if it might send her back inside her walls or maybe this time embrace it, but he would find out one day.


	15. A Lie, A Truth, and A Puke Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter covers "The Gift" and "Chimera"
> 
> It begins on Saturday, May 6th. It’s a busy week. Chimera occurred two weeks after Easter so it is most likely Mulder was sitting in Skinner’s office on Sunday night, May 7th, being taken away from the stakeout he was on with Scully and told to go to Bethany, NH. Fight Club also takes place that week, I’m assuming later in the week. Mulder’s actions in The Gift take place beginning May 6th. Doggett found 4 receipts for a rental car in Mulder’s desk for 4 consecutive Saturday nights to Sunday mornings in May. All averaging 370 miles each trip. By looking at Mulder’s cell phone records he believes that he was in Bethany, NH at least two of those trips. The one on May 6th where he backed out of being consumed and then the early hours of May 7th when he drove back to shoot the man in an attempt to kill him. The other trip occurring the weekend before he disappeared. Meaning, Mulder’s abduction took place on the 31st of May.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s an assumption from the Sheriff's reaction to dig up the grave that Mulder came back when The Keeper told him that the soul-eater had not died. So Mulder, faced with the facts that he had no case (the original case was a missing person and that person never went missing) and did not kill anyone (the soul-eater was not dead) decided there was no purpose for a report no one would believe. Now this is where things get fuzzy. 
> 
> Mulder shot a man in cold blood. He (hides?) his gun under the sink, unless that’s where he keeps it in case of break-ins, keeps the rental receipts, doesn’t clean the blood off his gun, doesn’t put up a painting or make sure the bullet holes in the home where he shot the soul-eater was properly repaired. Instead, leaves the receipts together to be easily discovered which he knows he’s always being spied on, doesn’t ditch the gun, doesn’t even reload it, but puts Scully’s career in possible jeopardy by having her hand in a falsified report. And why would he shoot him three times at close range yet not once in the head? There’s no need to remind you, this is an FBI agent who has covered up people he has killed before and deals with forensics for a living.
> 
> Then there is his headache. His symptoms this close to the end should have been similar to an Alzheimer’s patient with the added periods of blindness and deafness or ringing in the ears. His doctor would have told him he could not drive, yet he does and at times, with Scully in the car. Yet, none of these symptoms, including the headaches and short temper, were exhibited in Chimera or Fight Club or Brand X. Now why would Mulder travel to the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania four times? If he did travel Saturday night to Sunday morning four weekends in a row, it means that after All Things, they didn’t spend one Saturday night together because before that he was recovering from Brand X.
> 
> This is the picture we have, but what do you believe? There was a lot of false information handed to Doggett at that time, a lot of deception, covering up the Truth, tapped phones, and stolen laptops. If you look at the license plate on the receipt for the 6th and the one on the car in the beginning of The Gift they don’t match. The case that Doggett said Mulder wasn’t on had to be the stakeout, the 24 hour surveillance that he and Scully were doing before Skinner called Mulder away. From the look of the place and the conversation from Scully, they had been there at least one night already, meaning Scully was with him at the time the soul-eater was shot. Or did the conversation between Mulder and Skinner take place on Saturday night, the same time Mulder was supposed to be in Pennsylvania? Are we his eye witnesses? The part about him attempting to cure his brain disease is not far fetched, but the lying and deceit to protect his own ass and risking Scully’s integrity without her knowledge, does not sound like Mulder. This was the man that on her deathbed wouldn’t let her take the fall for him to save him from prison. So what is the Truth? That’s not for me, or Frank, or Chris to tell you. The creator does not own the Truth only what they themselves believed that they have laid out on the screen. I am a David Lynch fan and I believe that television is art, and like all art it is left up to the interpreter. So you must decide what you believe is the truth by what you see and interpret on the screen and anything else is only subjective.
> 
> This is one of my several interpretations of what occurred beginning Saturday, on the 6th of May in the year 2000 because why go with the simplest most logical answer?

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50672626921/in/dateposted/)

Another meeting with Skinner, another supernatural case brought to you by the X-Files. Scully had gotten off the plane from L.A. and suddenly everything in D.C. seemed plastic, fake, dull, almost like her career had lost its sheen. Or maybe it was that her life outside of work had finally begun broadcasting in vivid color. She looked over at Mulder, back slouched, legs crossed, fingers resting on the arm of the chair, totally ambivalent to his surroundings or his Assistant Director.

Skinner droned on about the case Mulder had brought to his attention. A serial killer with a possible tendency towards the supernatural and Mulder had already told Scully his suspicions about the power of invisibility. None of that caused her to even lift an eyebrow. She was too busy being hypnotized by Mulder’s fingers. Long and lean, gentle and strong, his flat pads softly caressing the arm of his chair.

Mulder shifted as if picking up on her gaze, his hand running along his leg towards the knee. She imagined him sliding it smoothly over her thigh, beneath the table and underneath her skirt. She’d cover his hand with hers, part her legs and guide his fingers so they covered her damp cotton-covered sex. 

Heat radiated from her core as she imagined him running his long digits up and down her center. Pressing her fingers into his, causing him to apply even more pressure to her folds while Skinner debriefed them. With each thought of the press of his hand against her she grew wetter and wetter. She tried to steady her breath, but the thought of Mulder bringing her to climax through that thin barrier of material right in front of Skinner, his finger slipping, touching the bare pink skin beneath. Scully flushed, shivered and drew in a harsh breath. A small whimper sounded from the back of her throat.

“Agent Scully,” Skinner’s voice boomed like ice water over her body. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I-I,” she stammered. The heat creeping up her spine now from embarrassment. “Yes, I just need some air.”

“Mulder will update you on what you missed,” Skinner called out as she left and stopped at the bathroom to splash water on her face.

She knew they hadn’t a clue what she’d been thinking, but she blushed and mentally admonished herself just the same. Need had overtaken her and it was an unwelcome distraction. Heading to their office, she wasn’t ready to get back to work or face Mulder, so instead she hid in the basement file room to gather herself. 

Once there, she mindlessly sifted through a box looking around mindlessly when she felt Mulder’s hand at her shoulder. He spoke in a warm, soft voice like a fluffy fleece blanket on a blustery winter’s day. “I know you have your doubts, but look at it this way, we get a motel room on the Bureau’s dime. Us, together, 24 hours a day, for maybe a week or more.”

Scully turned. The fire in Mulder’s eyes sometimes reminded her of the stars in the desert’s night sky. Exceedingly brilliant and bright, infinite in will, as if you might go blind standing too long in its path. She felt swept into his orbit, the rainforest tint beautifully intense and strikingly intelligent. Her toes lifted her towards his mouth, his arms embrace assisting with the remaining inches. A hum of surprise and delight reverberated from his lips. 

“Touch me,” she whispered into his mouth. 

He lifted her onto a stack of file boxes, the flimsy cardboard denting under the pressure. Mulder’s warm wet tongue swept into her mouth as his finger licked her folds. At the contact Scully’s eyes shut and she gripped his wrist and forearm, holding him in place.

“Scully,” he moaned in pleasure and surprise, as she felt him hardening against her leg. 

The jingle of his belt rang in the air as it came undone by her fingers. With closed eyes and her mouth sealed to his, the cold metal of the zipper pull pinched between her index and thumb, she heard the teeth spread as his erection bulged over the seam of his slacks and against his shorts.

Her heart beat hard, her hand reaching in to capture the soft skin around hard flesh. He groaned against her lips, his tongue farther in her mouth than her own. She guided him towards where his fingers moved, where her own swollen folds beat their own pulse, the rhythm of the crown that pressed into them. 

Scully gasped the stale basement air, her lungs filling and expelling treble clef eighth notes in ¾ time. The world shrunk to the feel of Mulder’s cock stroking her walls, carving his way like a drill into fresh lumber. The way he caringly stroked her hair with furrowed brow, the way his eyes turned steely dark concentrating on her before himself. It drove at her heart. Even without the words, his boundless love shined through. She could vaguely hear her own voice shout his name as lights flashed behind her eyelids in wide spectrums before concentrating to white. Her body tensed and coiled, then released in fury, pounding in defining percussion, pushing him away and sucking him in until his wet warmth drowned inside her, followed by kisses more decadent than the finest of Belgium delites. 

They pulled away, their world expanding too quickly to include the shelving, the building, the rest of society. It left her feeling as exposed as the nightmare of showing up naked to her final exam. 

“Guess you warmed up to the case,” he said smugly, tucking in his shirt and fastening his belt, but his eyes told the tale of his heart bared open, of a desire to snuggle by a fire and kiss under the light of existence. 

“I wouldn’t put your chips in yet,” Scully flirted, with a muted smile for a job well done, before heading in the office. She glanced back as she left, her blue eyes tempting with mischief. Mulder beamed, fixing his tie, removing her smudged lipstick from his lips with his thumb. She appreciated the way his eyes got that faraway look before falling onto the box they had crushed, his hand trepidatiously running along the lid. It was ‘the more’ that she carried with her when the thrill faded. 

2 hours later...

The smell hit her from the hallway- stale beer, mixed with pungent goat and emesis. Scully’s heels stuck to the floor as if by suction, creating a sound equivalent to crumpling up wrapping paper. Their “motel room” was a rent-by-the-hour apartment decorated in colorful graffiti, furnished in a tear stained (and other bodily fluids) mattress, equipped with their own abundance of various rodents and roaches. In an act of pure charity, the Bureau approved them to bring in a desk from a nearby Goodwill. 

“What more could a girl ask for in a weekend getaway?” Mulder asked, with his arms wide as he entered the room through the door that neither fully opened nor closed completely shut.

“You spoil me,” Scully responded, carrying in the monocular and their files, trying to launch them onto the desk on her tiptoes.

They settled in and set up, Scully taking the first round of surveillance giving Mulder time to sort through the current files and evidence which to Mulder meant spreading everything and anything over the desktop. Taking snapshots and video with the fancy high zoom lens turned out to be monotonous, even with the new DSLR and Mulder still insisting on using the photo printer.

Hours of staring at the entrance, watching the cars and buses fly by, the dregs of society wandering about. They hadn’t even been on the case 12 hours and Scully had her fill. Her stomach rumbled at the smell of french fries in grease from the nearby McDonald’s. It was close to the dinner hour. She watched as Mulder rubbed at his eye socket and pinched the bridge of his nose. He reached for some aspirin and downed two with a water chaser. 

“Your blood sugar may have dropped,” Scully said. “We should probably eat.”

“Huh?” he replied back, looking at her as if he had forgotten she had ever been there.

“If you have a headache, it could be from going so many hours without eating,” Scully said, pointing at her watch.

“What do you want? I’ll go get it.” 

She wanted a Big Mac, 6-piece chicken nuggets, and large fries. “Order me a salad from the deli on the corner.”

“Lite Vinaigrette on the side,” Mulder winked and left.

In the car, Mulder checked his messages before taking off. There were two missed calls from an unknown. The phone buzzed again.

“Mulder, it’s Jeffrey. You never called me back.” 

Mulder closed his eyes and took a deep breath, starting the car. “Yeah, I got sidetracked. I got off the plane from California and I started a new case.”

“The woman called me, hysterical, saying her sister was going to disappear tonight. If we’re going to help her, we have to leave now. Mulder, if there is any chance at all that I could be cured from what they did to me, I need to go.”

He was torn. He wanted to help Jeffrey and explore the case. What if this man could cure him and Jeffrey. Shit. “I’m on a stakeout. I don’t know when I’ll be able to break free. You’re going to have to go it alone and I’ll meet up with you when I can. You’re a former FBI agent, you’ve worked the X-Files, you can handle this.” 

“But I don’t have the same relationship you do with the supernatural and I’m no longer with the FBI. If I come out of the shadows, they’ll find me and then who knows what I’ll be subject to.” 

“Then stay in the shadows.”

“How do you propose I do that?”

Mulder looked up at the traffic light and tapped his finger against the steering wheel. “I can convince The Lone Gunman to make you a badge and ID. At least one good enough to fool local law enforcement.” 

“What am I going to do for money? I can’t rent a car without a credit card and insurance.” 

Mulder hung a quick right. “Are you still in D.C.?”

“Yeah.”

“Meet me at the Chinese restaurant at the corner of 9th and North.”

“Okay.”

20 minutes later…

“This is to charge the rental, so don’t go crazy with the 900 numbers,” Mulder instructed, pulling the credit card from his wallet and handing it to Jeffrey. 

“How are you going to contact me when you get up there?” Jeffrey asked.

Mulder dug into his pocket. “Here,” he said, giving him his cell phone. “That’s so I can contact you or if you find yourself in some trouble away from a pay phone.”

“What about protection, I’ll need a gun,” Jeffrey said.

Mulder chuckled and shook his head. “You’re not getting my gun. Either of them.”

On the way back, Mulder took a detour by the office and picked up another cell phone. By the time he got back to Scully, she looked like a ravenous lion. Her face soured. “Did you have to grow the lettuce yourself?” she asked, sarcastically.

He knew she was upset that he had left her in the bowels of hell alone. “I knew you didn’t really want a salad.” He set the brown paper bag down and announced the food as he removed each carton. “Moo Shu pork, Szechuan beef, Peking duck.”

Scully dove in like an olympic swimmer. “It’s cold, she mumbled as she stuffed a piece of duck between her teeth.”

“Tepid,” Mulder said. “I had to stop by the office, get my other phone.”

“You lost your phone again?” Scully said. “Don’t forget to tell Skinner.”

Night had rolled in, but the street, lively and illuminated by streetlights and signs provided enough light for them to continue to monitor. 

“How are we doing this?” Scully said as she yawned. 

“What?” Mulder asked, taking more photos.

“Sleeping arrangements.”

That made Mulder pause. “We could go buy some sheets, lie down on the mattress…”

“I was thinking we could take shifts, give us a chance to go home for some rest.”

“You can go. I’ll stay,” Mulder offered.

Scully’s eyes canvassed the room. It was depressing and morbid. Full of ended dreams, silenced voices screaming from the painted chipped plaster. Delicately, her fingertips scanned Mulder’s arm. As much as she wanted her own bed, she couldn’t bear to think of him there all night alone. “I’ll stay with you.”

* 

Once again, it was the smell that hit her first. The skunky musty familiar odor of marijuana, mixed with the sour smell of the boiling of heroin and  chemical acetic anhydride produced. But what really got the bile rising to her throat was the underlying burned plastic and clean chemical smell of meth. Good morning, neighbors. She peeled her cheek off the hardwood of the desk, saliva inching out of her mouth. The coffee Mulder had brought her had turned stale and cold. Mulder seemed to be in the exact place she left him, with his eye in the monocular, cheery as could be. Fire shot up the back of Scully’s neck as she tried to straighten up and her back felt like it was being kept together by a tight string. Her arm was like hot lead as she lifted her wrist to look at the time. A little after four in the afternoon. Two nights they had been here. Two nights of cries of passion and pain, moaning and pounding of walls, the smell of sex and sin. And that was just from the occupants above. If this was some kind of test of wills, Scully felt like she might be losing. Standing to stretch, her muscles screamed and she wondered if they were beginning to atrophy from being so stationary. “I feel like pizza,” she said trying to get Mulder’s attention. 

Mulder spun around in his chair. “Funny because you look like…”

Scully pointed her finger at him. “Don’t answer that.” 

He scratched the back of his head and scrunched his nose. “Pizza sounds good.”

*

An hour later Scully sunk her teeth into the melted mozzarella, the sweet tomato sauce sandwiched between the thin bread and extra cheese. A salty piece of hot pepperoni popped into her mouth and she smiled at Mulder. 

He laughed with his crooked grin, an elbow on the desk, a triangle of his own. Scully loved pizza. Fresh and fragrant, the more toppings the better. Each bite taking her back to childhood when a couple of pies fed a family of five. It meant her father had returned from the sea, greeting them with a hot pie he had picked up from the pizzeria two blocks from the base. When her dad brought home pizza the whole family showed up for a slice to laugh and listen to stories, and eat together. Those memories steamed through the garlic and herbs and crunchy crust. 

Mulder’s eyebrows and mouth fell open in dismay. He almost looked hurt. “What?” she asked between folded bites. 

“I wish you’d look at me the way you look at that pizza,” he replied.

“Maybe after we burn our clothes and disinfect from this place,” she returned.

Mulder licked his fleshy lips and crunched down on his second slice, chewing noisily. “Scully, what if our brain is a reflection of the universe?”

Scully nibbled at the edge of her crust. “In what way?”

“I read an article comparing the number of neurons in your brain to the number of galaxies in the observable universe.” 

She thought about licking her fingers, but decided against it, using the napkins to mop up the sauce on her hands and corners of her mouth. “Well, neurons form in long filaments and nodes between filaments, similar to galaxies. Mass or energy has a passive role in both.”

“Water inside the brain compared to the dark energy void of space,” Mulder added to the list. “Think of it Scully, both an organization of clusters and nodes, one made of molecules and neurons, the other star systems and galaxies.”

“Mulder, even if that’s true, that’s a huge leap to now say our brains and universes are… I mean, you understand what you’re saying?”

“Scully, what if, there is less similarity between the universe and a single galaxy, or the brain and a single neuron, than there is between the brain and the universe?”

“That would mean..”

“...that everything ever formed, created, was all made from the same stardust, operating together as one system, using the same set of blueprints.”

“And maybe we’re all just part of a larger brain. That nothing is alien and we’re connected, on a micro and macro level.”

“I think we’ve always been connected, Scully. It might have just taken meeting you to see it.” They hovered right there, their glances battled each other, she felt his body loosen as he pressed his lips to hers and she chuckled underneath her breath and winced. “Garlic,” she said as she pulled away.

He opened his mouth and exhaled a puff of his pizza breath her way. She coiled away in a boisterous amused laugh.

Mulder sprung from his chair and left her there while he headed down the hall. 

A couple quarters in the vending machine and Mulder leaned against it trying to decide between Spearmint or Cinnamon. As his finger pressed down on original flavor, he watched the vending machine coil drop his pack of gum, colorful spots appeared before his eyes, blinding him. A tingling, almost numbing sensation began on one side of his head, coming and going in a pattern, quick successions. It made him turn and pace, one eye watered and he went deaf in one ear replaced by a ringing tone. Wanting to shake the feeling, he stumbled, vertigo setting in, making him a prisoner. Then the nausea started in waves. The world detached, his mind blanked. All he could concentrate on was the solid tone in his ear and the numbness rooted deep in his head. He got down on one knee and panic sunk in. Then as quick as it came, it dissipated. Slowly, he filled his lungs with air and released it trying to slow his racing heart and get his wits about him. 

The last time he felt like this was after his mother died. The last thing he wanted was for Scully to worry. The slot banged shut as he grabbed the gum, ripped open the pack with one pull, and shoved a couple sticks in his mouth. 

Scully had her eye buried in the monocular when he returned. Feeling like he had returned to normal he took the post next to her and snapped some more pictures with the camera. 

After a couple minutes he felt Scully’s eyes upon him. “You got gum,” she observed.

“I did. Better?” he asked and blew a bubble centimeters from her lips, letting it pop and drawing it in to re-form. 

“I’m not sure,” she hummed with a tight lipped grin. Leaning in, she pressed her soft painted lips to his. Then it was his turn to hum. Slowly she withdrew, her eyes fluttering open. “Yes, much better.”

Such a sweet short kiss, yet it sent a hard pulse down his spine to his groin. He chewed loudly and nodded, picking up the camera and tried his best to distract himself with thoughts of baseball and Skinner kissing ugly toads. 

Morning turned to late afternoon and Scully sent him out again, this time he returned with some deli sandwiches. The IVF might not have worked, but she sure had an appetite like she was eating for two. She scarfed the chips fast enough, but only made her way through half her sandwich before deciding she wanted some tea to settle her stomach. He popped in another stick of gum so she didn’t complain of the onions in his sandwich and stood up from his chair. “There’s no coffee machine on this floor. If you go out this time, get yourself some tea and me some coffee, I’ll take your post.” He stretched his arms wide, his coat widening to reveal his gun and yawned. 

He felt her eyes taking in his torso and he held his stretch longer than he needed. Scully peeled her eyes like he might be tricking her, but decided going on an errand was more interesting than the current stakeout and replied. “Okay. Deal.”

When she returned, all they had time for was a little banter and case review before Skinner called. He wanted Mulder in his office. Now. Mulder was being assigned a new case leaving Scully to wade through the underbelly alone.

Mulder walked out of headquarters a little confused. Was Skinner in such support of the X-Files that he was considering crow sightings to be worth the time of an FBI agent? Sure, there were political reasons behind the desperation, but still he was leaning on Mulder’s keen abilities with the paranormal to solve it. 

In the middle of that thought, his cell phone rang. “Mulder.”

“Mulder, it’s real. I saw it with my own two eyes.”

It was Jeffrey again. “A man or a monster?” Mulder asked him.

“It’s a man, but it’s not. He was suffering from every ailment and illness, You could see it in his eyes, what was left of his body. They keep him tucked away and use him without regard and with impunity. Something’s got to be done, Mulder. I couldn’t go through with it. I got the hell out of there, but we’ve got to go back for him. We can’t leave him there to suffer. I need your help.”

“Jeffrey, calm down. I just got pulled off of the stakeout. I’m on another case in Vermont. I’ll try to see if I can detour.”

“Mulder, there needs to be an end to this guy’s suffering. If you saw what I saw..”

“But Jeffrey, if this guy is really consuming sickness for hundreds of years, it won’t be that easy.”

“Mulder, nobody lives forever. There’s always a way, a weakness. We gotta find it. Nothing should be born to suffer like that.”

“Jeff, he could take his own life. He doesn’t need you or I to do it. We’re not here to play God.”

[Post Chimera] Mulder returns from his case and drives to Scully’s apartment to debrief.

  
  


“Mulder, what are you wearing?” Scully said as she opened her apartment door, chuckling at his, _ Live Free or Die _ T-shirt that sharply contrasted with his dark gray slacks.

“You weren’t the only one that took a bath today. Had to change clothes and I didn’t feel like getting back into a shirt and tie just to come here.”

“I made dinner, if you’re hungry.”

“You cooked?” he asked hopefully.

“Well, I did carryout from the Italian restaurant and when you said you were on your way I reheated it in the oven.”

Mulder grinned, showing off his bright incisors. Very different from the home cooked meals he was getting back in Bethany. He knew the only pressed clean shirts he’d have in the morning were the ones he’d take to the cleaners.

“What?” Scully asked as she headed to the oven.

“Nothing,” Mulder replied. “It’s good to be back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point Jeffrey escaped during the tests but is not disfigured yet and Mulder loaning out his cell phone is not that far fetched considering he did it already in FTF.


	16. Undone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Fight Club" and "Je Souhaite"
> 
> As Mulder and Scully's romantic relationship intensifies, Mulder considers his future or lack thereof and what that might mean for Scully and The X-Files.

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50711729108/in/dateposted/)

Chapter 16 - Undone

Mulder drove through the night. He wasn’t even sure why he had taken the ride. Maybe to see for himself, to think that there were other possibilities outside the realm of science, outside his condemnation, only to find that even the supernatural, the spirit world, and alternative medicines, practices, and rituals were more dead ends. 

The doctor had confirmed his fear. Time was beating on his door for what he had stolen and now he must join his father, mother, and sister. His biggest and only regret was to not be able to pursue with Scully what they started, even if he knew part of him would always be with her just as he carried a part of her with him. 

Everyone had to meet their end sometime, there was no use living with the fear of death even as it loomed on the horizon. It was time for acceptance and to live in the moment, make it last. 

At least he would go out, doing what he loved and with the one he loved. Searching for the truth, solving the mystery of what went bump in the night. 

As tears welled and fell over his lower lids hiding beneath his sunglasses, his thoughts hopped about. He wondered if he had taken care of his mother enough. If he had been there more, loved more, checked up and worried just a little bit greater, would she have not died alone. He thought of his work and all that would go unfinished if Scully chose not to carry on. Of his father and the struggles of his life, raising a son born of an affair, a career shattered by the unthinkable, every day a test of will and ethics. Then, of course, his sister, the only end to her torment, lied in death, forsaken by her own parents in hopes that the involuntary sacrifice would hold the benefit of mankind. His mother, his father, his sister, now him. It made it hard to believe in miracles. 

His life had been picking up other people’s pieces, catching tears from mothers’ love, mending the bleeding hearts of strangers, looking up to stars in the sky not meant for him, knocking door to door and never finding what he needed or was searching for. He wondered if Scully might go on in the basement without him, continuing the X-Files. He had given her a sort of test, handing over the reigns for a case he would normally take the lead on, and while he was overly impressed in the beginning, it didn’t quite end the way either of them had hoped Even now he felt a guilt for all the cases that would be buried in dust once he had succumbed to the same fate. Mulder scowled and breathed in deeply. What he hunted his whole life was what would kill him in the end.

One week later…

The genie wasn’t his answer to leave the world in a better place, safer for everyone, filled with health and happiness, food and freedom for everyone, the end of tyranny of the powerful over the weak. He had been on the cusp and Scully had let the wind out of his sails with a single blow, a correct one, but it pained him nonetheless. What Scully didn’t know or maybe accept was that Mulder’s lifelong journey was coming to an end and for lack of time, if he could have reduced all of it to a single wish, then maybe he could have reached a life’s achievement just under the buzzer. 

As if on cue, while driving home, his brain skipped, like a record. One minute leaving headquarter’s garage, the next pulled over in front of his apartment. He couldn’t remember how he got there and looking at his watch had clearly lost time. This wasn’t the event of an alien presence, he knew what this was. His brain was failing him. These glitches were coming quicker now, happening days apart instead of months. His brain twitched again, this time almost like changing channels. He was in an office chair, in front of his neurologist. 

“There has been a change, Mr. Mulder and I’m afraid the deterioration is rapid.”

“What are we talking here Doc? Days? Weeks? Months?”

“I cannot provide you with that answer. I would begin any preparations that you might consider, immediately. Soon you may be under hospice care.” 

Mulder kept nodding and repeated the same questions, but the answers wouldn’t change. Even if the doctor was wrong, he had been getting his things in order. In his heart it felt like defeat, but there was also logic too. Then there was Scully. Now everything he had said to her felt like a lie, a promise he had no right to make. So if this was his last night on earth, what would he do?

All the things they had ever said to each other passed through his mind as he picked up the phone “Hey Scully, it’s me.” His heart beat so hard he could almost hear his ribs chattering and it made him laugh at himself. “Am I catching you at a bad time?” 

“No, I-I wasn’t doing much of anything, straightening up a bit.” She sounded very casual compared to the tension packed in his vocal chords.

Mulder chuckled under his breath again. He was making this too difficult. “Would you like to come over? We could watch a movie?”

There was silence at the other end and it felt like spiders drinking tequila were crawling around his belly. Finally, she spoke. “I’ve got some paperwork I could bring over, there are a couple cases Skinner gave us to look through.”

Mulder massaged his forehead. She wasn’t understanding. “No work. Just you.”

Another agonizing moment of silence before she finally said, “Okay. See you around nine?”

“See you then.” Relief washed over and rolled his fears out in the tide. Then his eyes widened. He had to get to the store, buy some grub and rent a movie. 

**“Well, I’m fairly happy. That’s something.”**

**On the couch in Apartment #42. The credits to Caddyshack rolling as Kenny Loggins sang over them.**

Her eyes were closed when she nestled in closer to him. He placed his arm delicately around her as not to wake her, involuntarily nuzzling her ear, closing his own eyes, inhaling her fragrance, letting it chase away the pain of knowing he would be separated from all that he treasured. He pressed his lips gently against the skin below her hairline. He took in her beauty, the hot knives of loss already sharpening. Scully stirred. The graceful ethereal movement of her fingertips brushed the nape of his neck lessening the dread to a dull throbbing ache. 

“You’re rather attractive for a beautiful girl with a great body,” Mulder quoted softly when Scully opened her eyes.

“Be the ball. You’re not being the ball, Mulder,” Scully returned, letting him know she had been paying attention to the movie.

“It’s hard when you’re talking like that,” he replied with a satisfied smile.

Scully batted her eyelashes at him and it made his heart flutter. “I thought you’d be the man to beat this year.”

Mulder chewed on the inside of his mouth just below his bottom lip, raised his brow and replied, “I guess I’ll just have to keep beating myself.”

Now it was Scully’s turn to smile. “Not if you play your cards right.”

He pressed his forehead to hers and said in his best Ted Knight impression, “Well? We’re waiting.”

The look in her eyes gave him everything he needed to hear. He waited until she leaned in and his world, a million actions and thoughts, condensed into one amazing kiss, turning his black and white world into vivid color. Without reply, her fingers felt like flower petals as they brushed against the sensitive skin of his lower back while she lifted his black Henley.

He heard her breath shallow as he removed her white long-sleeved blouse and lowered his head to kiss between her breasts, slowly running his tongue up her neck. Gently, his hands grazed her arms, then her back, while he kissed the top of her shoulder. Skin to skin their bodies pressed together when his hands finally tangled in her hair, his mouth covering hers, tongues entwined.

Knowing this could be the last time, emotions burned at his closed lids, but he couldn’t fathom anything better than spending his last days kissing her. 

With each rock of his jaw against hers, he blocked out all thought about how it might break her when it did happen, what further mess he might create when he told her.. he kissed her until reason seeped out his pores ... until tiny sparklers danced over his skin and in his gut, reigniting to life parts of his brain that had already died.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” Scully said breathlessly, lightning shooting through him as need flashed in her eyes “Oh, Mulder,” she returned, colliding her mouth with his and together they rose from the couch, crashing against the doorframe, falling to the bed, laughing, beaming at the other.

They paused to look into the others eyes, to read their thoughts, emotions, and desire. To feel the other’s perspective and accept it. They took turns scouring over the other’s body. She kissed the faint scar on his shoulder and he kissed the one at her belly. 

When he landed his lips at the hills of her breasts, this time he freed them from their restraints. His plan was simple. To kiss and suck and worship every inch of her body. He teased each of her nipples until they were glistening with saliva and stood at attention. His tongue trailed down to her belly, loving her. Tasting her. Drinking in her scent, her reaction. He removed her underwear, then kissed down her sparse flame-colored hairs until he was between her legs; his lips and tongue as passionate as if it was her mouth. 

There remained a newness among them that continued to excite him and with that came the balance- what they knew from their few experiences and what they knew from their hearts. Her legs wrapped around his head, resting desperately at his shoulders as his tongue ravaged her walls, drawing out an earth shattering moan, raw and intense, and thickening his already swollen cock.

Scully grabbed his hair, yanked and pulled him closer to her sex, rocking into him. With one finger crooked inside her, he hit the spot that turned her moans into one long, high-pitched frenzy. She shuddered against him, her legs quaking, and when he finally slowed to look up at her, her head flung back, hair wild, eyelids pulled tight shut, her mouth remaining open in a silent howl. She had never looked more beautiful, more free, or more in love, and it filled every empty crevice inside him. 

Scully rolled to her side as he slid up behind her, spooning her as if they were sterling silver snuggled in a flatware chest. She closed her eyes when his lips fell on the back of her neck, his fingers tracing every bump and bone down the length of her spine. Reaching around he clasped her breasts, his long fingers massaging with purpose, pinching at her nipples hard enough for her to moan and buck against him. His other fingers slipped between her folds, stroking her until her body was floating, a shadowy seamless tangle within the darkness, the violet night stretching out before them, the moonlight glistening her skin through his blinds and her gentle hold at his neck assuring him that time would stand still tonight.

She twisted her body just enough to kiss him and he slowed his hand just enough to bring her back from the brink, then quickened the move until she was calling his name, rising up into the clouds and plunging down, freefalling again.

When her breathing slowed, Scully ran her hand over the rough satin strands of his face and he pressed his lips to her wrist. Then she said something that almost made him lose consciousness -"I love the way you feel when you're moving inside me. I love the way we feel and I want to feel that, I want to feel us, in that way. Right now.”

They kissed, long and soft, like they were learning each other’s mouth’s all over again, content with the connection, savoring their feelings. He drew her in close and their bodies began their natural movement. Her hand dropped around his length. The move surprised him and he had been so concentrated on her, that her reaching out to him touched him in a way that made him almost come right into her hand. She was pulling him, guiding him towards her center. As he pressed through her folds, joining their bodies, he watched the affection, satisfaction, and desire contort her features and give rise to his own.

At first it was slow, but as he felt her insides swell around his cock, lubricate and warm it, cradle it the way only her body could, their rhythm quickened. They reached inside each other, clinging and receding, the way they had taught each other to make love. He’d slow his pace and she would quicken, she would still and he would rage, then they’d dance together, escalating the pace, climbing closer together.

He felt her powerful competent hands clutching furiously at his back. She was close, so he slowed, almost pulling out completely because he didn’t want it to end. Although, if he stopped she might have decked him. She was already arching in defiance, so he scooped her up by the ass towards him so every part of their bodies could touch and he could stay inside her as deep as possible no matter how they twisted. 

Moving her hips against the tide, Scully slid along his cock at a maddening pace, and he felt every detail of her walls as they flexed and pushed around him, kissing each nerve ending and coaxing a river towards the dam. Her walls swelled one final time, thickening and firm, he curved his stroke very gently and their voices joined in a harmonious cry as he met her orgasm with his own, her scent filling his lungs, holding each other, the feeling of overcoming in the others concentrated stares. There was no more restraint as they let go, as he covered her with soft kisses and he felt her own lips at his chin, cheek and throat.

Lying next to her afterwards, sharing laughter and smiles, coated him with a peaceful satisfaction the outside world couldn’t offer. It was so easy when he was there with her, in that magical little world they’d built together, to forget that their time together was running out. 

He pushed the hair from her face, delicately placing it behind her ear, all the time gazing into her glittering blue eyes. It forced him into contrition. “One of my regrets will always be that I couldn’t give you what you needed me to,” Mulder said, softly.

Her eyes darkened, and a deep worried line formed between her brow. “Mulder, you did so much more than I could have ever asked, and I never meant for you to feel that was your responsibility. I never would have asked if I thought..”

“But I’m glad you did,” he said, his thumb brushing the apple of her cheek. “And even if you didn’t I would have done anything to help you.”

“I know you would have,” she whispered, hitting her so profoundly she was hardly able to hold their connection.

Mulder took in a breath and released the remainder of his fears to her. “I’m all there is Scully.”

Those simple words haunted the room and struck the chords of her heart. She understood then, that her child may have been his last chance as well, something she never considered for him. 

She kissed his cheek lightly, and closed her eyes for what seemed like only a second, silently inhaling and exhaling. When she opened them, she saw his lashes slowly rise, like a puppy opening its eyes for the first time. A smile slid across his face, his gorgeous hazels staring back.

She pressed her chest against his, her heartbeat already starting to pace with his again. Grabbing his hand she intertwined their fingers. Their lips met with the slightest and softest touch, then parted.

“Good morning,” she heard him hum. She was so engulfed in his beauty that the only way she could respond was to smile at him and play lightly with his hair. “I love you,” she said, slowly.

He smiled and kissed her nose, acting like he was going to speak, but instead they laid there for a while longer in silence gazing into each other’s eyes, eventually having it turn to kissing, then groping, heating her body up all over again. 

He leaned against her forehead. “I can’t believe I’m hard again in such a short span of time, that you can put me in this state so easily. My body craves to be inside you, with you, all the time now.”

Scully rolled on top of him, sliding him inside, riding him until pleasure rushed through them, and even though he begged her to slow, she hadn’t until he began to come inside her, and then she tightened around him, and whatever remained from the night before roared up in the undertow and surged out, taking the air from his lungs and the blood from his veins. 

This was them, in their purest form, vulnerable and naked in their protective cocoon and the pleasure of being with her heightened to a place he had never visited with a capacity of physical sensation that he never knew. 

While they slowly came down from their bliss Mulder wrapped his arms around Scully as she faced the window. “I’ve got some paperwork to sign today. Financial stuff with the estate. I’d like you to come with me if you have time.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” she answered, reaching for his hand again, pressing her body to his. 

They got off the plane at Logan and the attorney was waiting with a driver. The way he greeted Mulder, in a big bear hug, like he knew him all his life made Scully stiffen. She didn’t like there being parts of Mulder’s past she didn’t know, it usually led to trouble. Drew, who she learned was one of his old friends from the Vineyard when he was young, was stouter than Mulder with perfectly groomed hair and nails in a Brooks Brothers suit. Another kid with a rich family that lived down the block and most likely his father had also grilled and water skied with Bill Mulder and the Smoking Man. 

It seemed peculiar that an attorney would open up his office on a Saturday, but Scully explained it away, it was his friend after all. The meeting was a lot more extensive than she had approximated. 

Documents and forms shifted in front of Mulder until Drew said, “That covers probate. Now we can review the updates to your will and if there’s anything that you want to add or subtract I can do that or if there are no changes you can sign and I can have it filed.”

Drew placed a document of three pages on the glazed mahogany table. “It’s pretty straightforward as you only have a sole beneficiary, Ms. Dana K. Scully.” He looked up at Scully and gave a short smile and nodded in her direction. 

Scully raised her brows and turned her attention to Mulder, but she couldn’t read his expression. This wasn’t exactly a revelation. Afterall, he had no one to leave it all to. Still, it didn’t change the dreariness of the words on the paper. To think a day might come that Mulder might not walk the earth. A headache stitched a spider web around her brain as Drew went on speaking on the subjects of Power of Attorney and Executor of the Will. Her stomach felt like hollow iron; her heartbeat quickened and she thought she might be sick. She gave Drew another tight smile and said, “If you don’t need me I’m going to go get some air.”

Mulder stood with her. “Everything alright?”

“Uh-yeah,” she said looking down at the table. “I’ll be outside.” 

Mulder finished up with Drew and headed out with the envelope with his copy of the papers inside. “What happened in there?” he asked as they walked down the steps.

“I have a headache. That’s all.” She looked at him almost defiantly. He knew it was better if he dropped it. 

He noticed her looking around and it occurred to him that she didn’t know how they would be getting around town. “That’s our car for the weekend,” he said pointing at the sleek black convertible Aston Martin. 

“Mulder, what is that, $1,000 a day rental? Spending the inheritance before you cash the check?”

That tickled him. “It’s another buddy from school. He let me borrow it to drive around the Vineyard.”

“How many friends do you have out here?” she asked, fighting to keep her hair in place with the wind.

“A few.” He tossed her the keys. “You drive.”

She peeled her eyes at him. “Are you sure you’re Fox Mulder and not some alien bounty hunter?”

“Very funny,” he shot back.

“Clone?”

He opened the passenger door and spoke to her over the top of the hood. “Just drive before I change my mind.” 

They took the ferry over. Mulder leaning on the car staring at the water. His thin charcoal tee clung to each curve of muscle from the flat planes of his chest to the ripple of his abs. With his shades on he looked like someone might have plucked him from an old black and white Steve McQueen movie. 

It moved her enough that she crept up behind him and rested her hand on his shoulder. He took off his sunglasses to not hide his eyes from her and smiled. It was then she felt the heat of the sun and the lapping of the waves against the ferry. The scent of the briny ocean floated around them. That’s what Mulder did. He brought the world into eloquent detail. Cast light into her cracks, revealed the animation in still-life. 


	17. The Vineyard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are two days before the events of "Requiem". If this could be your last weekend on earth, how would you spend the time?

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50730632411/in/dateposted/)

They parked the car and toured the shops, the simple pleasures of a beach town coming into view, giving her a much clearer picture of what life had been like for Mulder’s younger years. There was no need to talk, Mulder’s easy, quiet company was enough. Besides they spoke in different, louder ways.

After checking into the hotel and getting dressed into casual clothing, Mulder coaxed Scully into renting bicycles, insisting it was the best way to see the island. With a little wobbling from Scully, they rode down to one of the secluded beaches. 

Mulder’s tires slowed and squeaked as he braked at the top of the bridge. He tied his backpack to the rack and walked to the edge. Scully coasted and slowed. “Mulder, what are you doing?” 

He didn’t answer, taking off his shoes and socks, unbuckling his jeans, sliding them off and lifting off his shirt.

“Mulder!” Scully called, then laid her bike down and jogged towards him. “Mulder, what are you doing?”

“Come on, Scully. Jump with me.”

“Mulder, you’re crazy,” she said looking over the bridge, her fear of heights that she refused to acknowledge starting to kick in. 

“Jump with me, Scully.”

“Mulder, I don’t have my bathing suit on.”

“Just jump with me. Come on, I used to dive from here all the time with my friends.”

“Twenty years ago,” Scully reminded him.

“This is Jaws Bridge. This is the spot the most vicious Jaws shark-attack scenes were filmed. You jump and imagine those gnashing teeth and that great big mouth just waiting to swallow you whole as you land in the ocean below.” 

He waggled his brow and placed his hands at his hips waiting for her answer. 

Scully sighed. “Fine.” She started removing her shoes. Luckily she was wearing her boy shorts underwear. The passing cars were already honking their encouragement. 

She held his hand and he gave her a smile and single nod before bending their knees and taking the leap. Scully screamed with what she hoped was delight as Mulder shouted, the water still cool in May, but refreshing. They quickly swam to the shore, Mulder helping her up onto the rocks and holding her hand as they made their way back to their bicycles, laughing from the thrill. Scully pulled a towel from her own backpack and they dried themselves off. 

They pedaled on, taking in the scenic views, the Osprey hunting for fish in the shallows, the trees and flowers along the route just sprouting their blooms. 

They stopped on their way to talk to a man crabbing at the footbridge before reaching the shore. The waves crashed spewing foam as they walked barefoot along the edge of the surf where Mulder as a child had spent hours fishing with his friends and even his father when Samantha was still with them. 

The warm breeze caught Scully’s spring jacket as she watched two locals cast for striped bass. In the sun’s fading warmth, the sand scrubbed between her toes as the ocean crashed and withdrew, the receding waves chased by sandpipers and jubilant dogs.

When they had walked far enough away from the picnickers and fisherman, they set their backpacks down and Mulder poured into plastic cups a local red wine Scully had picked from one of the shops. She watched his face, noble in the bronze light, his patrician shining through. He had been a part of this island, the history and landscape, that of his mother and father and those that came before them. She realized how surreal this experience must be, having her here, and how far he had been to come full circle.

The sun grew larger, turning a reddish orange as it slid toward the horizon and set in a spectacular display of magenta rays before dropping down behind the rise of low hills beyond the point. 

“That was beautiful,” she said to Mulder, drinking down the last of her wine. 

“That’s just the opening act, the moon is up next.” Mulder held up the empty wine bottle and shook it, closing one eye to look through the green glass, then shrugged. “Guess it had a hole in it.”

Scully hid her smile at his corny joke and offered her hand as she stood. He accepted the help and they walked across the beach to the ocean. A half-moon hung over the sea, casting a wide, bright path onto the dark waves. With a tingle of excitement, Scully slipped her hand into Mulder’s. He turned and stopped at her touch, tracing a gentle finger along the curve of her cheekbone and planting a tender kiss on her lips. 

“The houses in town are so quaint, it’s almost like we’re in a children’s storybook,” Scully observed as they continued to walk along the shore. 

“It’s actually a hybrid of European Gothic Revival styles,” Mulder replied.

“I like the jigsaw-cut detail on the facades of the cottages. It’s very pretty.”

“They call it gingerbread. I don’t know much about intricate carpenter work, but you hang around long enough, you learn a few things.” The wind picked up as the pair reached the empty beach. Scully snuggled into Mulder’s side and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder, the wind whipping her hair around, sticking up one side to form a crimson wall. The ocean rolled with whitecaps. Huge breakers battered the shoreline.

“Is it too windy for you?” Mulder asked, “We could head back?”

“I’m okay,” she said quietly, “but we still have a 6 mile bike ride to the hotel and it is almost 10:30pm.”

As they walked back to the bicycles, Scully looked skyward, The stars spread across the sky in a broad arc like pearls on black velvet, an almost-supernatural cloud dotted with bright pinpoints of light. “I didn’t know there was anyplace left on the East Coast where you could clearly see a bright Milky Way.”

Mulder tilted his head to take in her view. “Yeah, it’s different away from the lights of the major cities.” 

Scully looked like she might be ready to sleep as she leaned her fire locks against the passenger side headrest. It had been a long day and they had gotten in quite a workout, but he didn’t want to sleep. If this was his last weekend on earth, he didn’t want to waste it sleeping, and didn’t want to miss one minute of being with Scully. 

He put down the top, the cool breeze lifting their hair, revealing their new roof, the black curtain of the universe, decorated in twinkling sequins. “Scully. Scully.”

“Yes, Mulder,” Scully mumbled, starting to drift.

“How about we take a ride over to Chilmark. There’s a place the locals call, Back Door Donuts. They stay open all night and you haven’t lived until you’ve tasted one of their donuts hot out of the oven.”

Scully’s eyes opened at the premise and Mulder smiled. He continued. “Aaaaaand if you know the secret code, they’ll go next door and get you a box of Chilmark chocolates. They’re made right here with local ingredients and usually you would have to wait at least 45 minutes in line for a bite. What do you think?”

Scully hooked a smile. “I think you’re buying.” 

Creamy goodness leaked from the corners of Scully’s lips, her small mouth unable to wrap around the width of the donut, the chocolate icing dabbing the tip of her nose with each bite. Mulder felt the muscles at the corners of his eyes start to hurt from glee. Not many things tickled him the way Scully did. Unable to help himself he tipped the edge of her donut, covering her face with it. He took a bite of his round glazed pretending he was innocent, but her screeching, “Mulder!” like Mr. Spacely firing George Jetson, let him know he wasn’t getting away with it. So he gave her his best innocent puppy impersonation, curling out his bottom lip, slanting his brows, and flapping his eyelids to do his best to add a sheen to his mossy gleam.

Scully’s chocolate covered pout slowly broke and turned into a grin. Mulder, unable to resist her adorableness, leaned in and she met him halfway, kissing him, spreading the sweetness of her lips and the chocolate and cream filling of her donut all over his own. His tongue gently reached into her mouth and it sent tingles through his body, and fireworks from his heart, burning his chest. The intensity surged and he felt tears sting at his closed eyes. His soul didn’t feel capable of ever leaving hers. 

In an act of rebellion, Mulder flattened his tongue and with a long swipe licked the chocolate from her cheek, sucking some off the tip of her nose. Scully started pushing him away and scolding him, giggling like a schoolgirl at the playground. He laughed with her, leaning his forehead to hers, stroking her hair. Their eyes met and then closed as they kissed again, her hand at his knee, his hand covering hers. The urge to tell her he loved her bubbled up again, but he fought it back down. He wouldn’t do that to her. Tell her he loved her and then leave her. His plan had always been to spend the rest of his life with her and that was exactly what he was doing. However long they had, 90 minutes or 90 years, it would never be enough.

It was close to two in the morning when they reached their hotel. Mulder, not in the mood for sleep, changed into sweats and a tee and laid on top of the bed staring out at the ocean waves and starry night.

Scully returned from the bathroom in her normal silk attire that hung perfectly on her petite frame. Mulder preferred admiring her in it than if she had on some fancy negligee. The button down revealed the shape of her breasts, giving a hint of cleavage. It narrowed slightly towards the hips, the back sloping as it rested on the small of her back where he longed to place his lips. The place his right hand called home as she was but a superior extension of it.

It all teased and tantalized, made his imagination run untamed and he relished every ounce of it. “The front desk called while you were in there. Seems the entire state of Massachusetts has run out of hot water.” He waited for her reaction, then added, “Get all the sand out of those cracks and crevices?”

She leaned into him as she laid down in bed. It felt slightly awkward, her coming to bed with him. Usually they only ended up in bed together after being caught up in passion or to comfort through suffering, not after an enjoyable day and not planned with forethought. 

Suddenly, he wondered what side of the bed he slept on, did they keep to each other’s side or should they attempt to fall asleep in each other’s arms. He never considered any of that before, they always drifted off from exhaustion or bliss or because they ran out of tears. The sound of her breathing a lullaby, curing his insomnia and her heart’s beat soothing his tumultuous soul.

Scully had brought a book into bed with her. He knew this was her routine. It relaxed her brain enough to fall asleep, but sleep was not what he was after. She swatted him playfully when he turned her pages, pretending to read over her shoulder. “Go ahead if you want to read it so bad,” she said, handing it to him. 

He gently took her wireframes from her face and put them on his own. The book was the history of the Vineyard, she must have picked it out in the bookstore when they were in town. 

He began to read aloud where she’d left off and tried to keep his attention on the page and not the gorgeous woman who he had her full attention lying next to him. 

“What are you doing?” he asked with a quirked brow, frozen in place as he felt her straddle and lower over him as he read.

When she didn’t answer he continued reading as if he didn’t feel the warm lick of his pectoral muscle or when she planted soft kisses along his abdomen. His fingers laced through her hair, but she gently lifted them. “With this, Mulder, I don’t need your help.”

He pulled himself in a more seated position and put down the book. She smiled up at him before she scooted back slightly over his body, her inner thighs and bottom coming into contact with his pajama bottoms and the growing fullness underneath them. She took a bite out of the side of him, just over his ribs, and he grunted softly, his fingers tightening around her hair. Her tongue soothed the sting, but she politely pushed his hand away again. “Do I need to restrain you?”

Something about the thought of relinquishing full and complete control to Scully struck a chord. “You may have to.”

Scully lifted off of him and her absence left him with a chill, but she returned. Lifting his arms above his head, he heard the loud metal clinks with each lock of the cuffs. “You brought them with you?”

Scully simply shrugged. “You never know where the next suspect you need to apprehend might be.”

“Always the G-woman,” he returned.

Now that he was firmly, but comfortably secured to one of the rungs on the head board, she returned to him, straddling his thighs. A thrill went through him as his abdominal muscles jumped, her lips and tongue sending what felt like an electric current through them. He watched Scully’s back move and flex as she reached his narrow path of hair that led from his belly button to below the waistline of his pajamas. Her muscles were so dense and artfully defined, her skin taut and smooth. She pressed her lips and face against his skin, twisting her head slightly, the sensation of her mouth against the silky hairs made him release the first groan of what he anticipated to be many. His arms above his head already aching to hold her.

Scully glanced up and he saw her eyes glittered with arousal like stars in a daytime sky. He tilted his hips slightly, his eyes urging her without words, and she dipped down to his need. He moaned and called her name, marking his wrists on the restraints when she hovered over the bulge of his cock, and she came down over him, finding the rigid column with her seeking lips and biting at it gently through the bunched fabric of his pants.

“Scully,” he muttered, and it was both an endearment and a warning. She looked up and held his gaze while she lightly clenched the girth of his cock between her bottom and top teeth and slid them back and forth in a gentle sawing motion. His face tightened in a grimace. She reached up and cupped his full, firm scrotum, squeezing gently while she found the succulent cap of his cock beneath the fabric and puckered her lips against it releasing a stream of hot breath. Everything she did aroused him, but it was more rare for her to be the one to touch as he was always concentrating on her. By the time he jerked his hips up and she pulled his PJs down, exposing his naked swollen cock, he was starved for her.

“Slow down,” he murmured as she took him into her mouth and pulsed him just below the head, applying a hard pressure with her rigid tongue and lips, sucking hungrily. He could only look down at her and long for the image of her naked, decadently beautiful cut torso and glorious ass and thighs, the look of pleasure she got across her perfectly curved facial structure as she went over the edge.

“Take your clothes off for me, Scully,” he requested softly.

She closed her eyes and did as he requested. Overwhelmed by the fullness of the moment, he tried to push the memory deep into his consciousness: the soft sigh of the waves hitting the beach in the distant view through the window, the seagulls calling in the distance, the dry taste in his mouth as he felt the hard pressure of his cock filling her mouth, hearing her gag a little because of her eagerness to swallow him whole. His Scully was no quitter and her response was only to take him deeper than she ever had before. His back arched and he cried out again, pulling at each cuff, the pain combined with pleasure sending him into a new plane.

He’d never experienced something as sweet or arousing as Scully making love to him with her mouth in the early hours of such a warm spring. Her unselfishness never surprised him. She always gave freely, completely, when it came to him. He could feel her sexual hunger, a pure, untainted desire to provide him pleasure and joy, but there was something more that he sensed. Her submission to his desire sparked her own arousal. When his heat escalated, hers did too. 

He lay there, swimming in pleasure and sensation, watching her focus. Her fiery hair fell in tousled waves around her face wisping so softly his fingers twitched in longing to touch them. The sprinkling of freckles on her nose that he prized so greatly were growing slightly more prominent from their day in the sun, but he’d never tell her that, knowing she disliked them, hiding them often under makeup.

Scully was a sexy contradiction, skilled, innocent and brazen all at once. Every time they made love, he discovered a new height to how aroused she could become, how aroused she could make him. Her cheeks were rosy, from the sun, the heat, or arousal, he didn’t know. He watched and throbbed as she wet the entire stalk of his cock with her tongue, her velvety blue eyes shining as he met her stare.

Wincing in pleasure, wrists pulled and his head fell back, banging hard against the headboard. Her small hand fisted his length tight. She was a little ruthless on the lubricated, blood-engorged flesh, but he liked it. He took that back. He loved it.

She wrapped the base of his cock with her fist and sucked the head so hard that he grimaced in stark pleasure. “Please, Scully, please, I don’t want to come yet,” he begged.

She paused with her mouth full, looking up at him, her cheeks hollowed out as she sucked. He snarled at the potent image she made.

“You’re ruthless,” he conceded, a coat of sweat breaking out onto his skin. Then groaned agains as she sucked him deep and he felt her throat tighten around the tip. Agonized pleasure seized him. “I’m not going to be able to hold out much longer. Please. I want us to come together.”

“Then you better not come, Mulder,” she said in an almost sinister tone, taking him deep again, her nostrils flaring for air. He grunted in disbelieving pleasure, his need roaring in his veins. Through the blur of his raging lust, he saw a tear fall down her cheek. He gasped and pulled back on the cuffs, twisting his hips but she was having none of it, bobbing hard over his lap, the friction of her taut lips and pumping fist killing him.

He felt that familiar tingling in his balls and knew mind and will were being overcome by bodily function. In a last ditch effort he jerked his hips forward trying not to hurt her, then pulled back, dislodging his cock, grating the sensitive skin against her teeth, pleasure, but enough pain to pull him off the edge. “I’d rather kiss you, then come,” he panted. “And if I’m going to come I want it to be from the motion of your body coming around me.” 

A gentleness passed into her eyes and she met his lips, her sex accidentally brushing his crown in the process and he moaned against her mouth. It throbbed in longing to be in its home. She undid his shackles and he moaned again from the pure pleasure of touching her skin, feeling her body flush to his. 

“I’ve brought something with me. Something I purchased before we left. You trust me, don’t you?”

She said, “Of course,” but still looked suspiciously at him. 

He grabbed the tie he had worn yesterday at the lawyers and handed it to her. “It’s a surprise, so, blindfold, please.”

She hesitated, but did as instructed, securing the tie over her eyes and tying a knot behind it all while stark naked. He was enjoying himself and a little proud. “Now get on all fours.”

“Mulder,” she protested with a warning, but he ushered it away with his hand.

“Trust,” he replied.

She did as instructed, her perfect ass just waving in the air. He reached into his suitcase and pulled out his treasure. 

Scully sighed into the blackness, her heart picking up the pace and she heard a distant buzz. She felt Mulder’s presence behind her and a dull warm object pressed against her breast; she felt his fingers around it as it buzzed around her nipple. At first it was a numbing feeling, then she felt a surge suddenly between her thighs. A pleasurable need, stemming from her chest to her sex. The need for him inside her rose sharply, but she just couldn’t tell him. No matter how much she throbbed, they just weren’t ready for that kind of openness. Or perhaps she wasn’t, but with every swipe of his bobbing cock, against her thigh, her ass, she wanted him more. 

“Are you ready,” he whispered hotly into her ear.

“Yes,” she replied with a hard gulp, gasping. 

He complied, pushing a little roughly inside; her body burned, conforming around the hard, thick intrusion. Then lit like the Rockefeller Christmas tree. The buzzing moved down over her trembling muscles of her abdomen in between her thighs. Immediately, her walls flexed and milked him, the relief coming in waves. She moaned and he quickened his movement with ferocity. Blindfolded, yet she knew that he was taking in the beauty of them being joined together, him sliding into her, becoming a part of her again and again. When the convulsing of her walls lessened he slowed. “Scully lay flat on your stomach. I want you to lean against the vibrator and my hand, rub against it the way that feels good to you.”

She lowered herself on the mattress, her face in the pillow, hands gripping the fitted sheet, her hips finding their groove; Mulder providing the severity of the vibration and pressure she needed. His body pressed into her back as he asked, “How does it feel,” with the same concern as when he would talk to an abductee.

“The combination of you and that is incredible,” Scully attempted to say in between gasps, but she wasn’t sure how much actually came out.

He continued their sensual slide, eventually pumping harder, his voice panicked and desperate as he breathed out, “I’m going to come.” And at those words, she came again. 

He released a deep rolling groan at the sensation as he sent one more deep thrust inside her, continuing to tremble, coming powerfully into her. The second round tightened every muscle in his body. Pleasure continued to wrack him as he listened to her moan, watched her white knuckles and clenched eyelids, clearly seen above the fallen tie resting along her slacked jaw.

He held her against him, squeezing her tighter as she recovered, eating up every small whimper that fell across her lips, treasuring every bit of pleasure he could give her. He looked out onto the ocean through the paned glass and for a moment thought he saw a comet blaze by. As much as he fought it, sleep finally overcame him in the arms of his sun and the light of the moon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wondered, the "comet" is the UFO that would eventually crash in Oregon, the same one that will eventually have Mulder onboard.


	18. The Vineyard Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder and Scully are on day two of their weekend getaway. Scully is learning about Mulder's past and a side of him she seldom gets to witness. Meanwhile, Mulder is enjoying the moment, but also knowing that the world is still waiting and soon he must tell her that the sand in his hourglass is quickly running out.

They rose with the sun, the pink fog softening the trees outside their bedroom window. The sky was covered in a color blue Scully had only seen in paintings. Even the flowers, reminding her of a Monet. A muffled honk of pond geese could be heard far off in the distance along with the early morning bustling of tourists looking for breakfast. 

She wasn’t ready to get out of what felt like the softest bed she had ever slept in. The entire atmosphere had her feeling blissfully relaxed. She spent a little longer listening to Mulder’s gentle snore and the waves lapping the rocks before deciding to swing her legs over the edge of the high four-poster bed and stretch. Slowly, she got up, put on the plush sky-blue robe the hotel gave them, then made herself some tea and Mulder his coffee in the small kitchenette in the adjourning room. If her future would be childless, accepting growing old with Mulder, the X-Files, all of it, could be a good life. There were ways to carve out their own piece of happiness.

When she returned, she found Mulder still sleeping, sprawled out on top of the sheets, taking up both sides of the bed, a full head of tousled hair resting on her pillow. Even that, so simple, yet to her, in Mulder’s own way, elegant. It made her smile. 

Mulder’s eyes slowly opened as he stretched and grinned at Scully. She rested at the edge of the mattress and handed him his coffee, her robe unintentionally falling open. Mulder sat up and took the coffee mug, reaching over to run a hand over her body like an unwrapped present.

“This could be the nicest way I’ve ever woken up,” he said, smugly. “How long was I asleep?”

Scully fixed her robe much to Mulder’s dismay. “Not long. Maybe a couple hours. We didn’t get all that much sleep. Are you hungry?”

“I will be,” he answered, his voice had a husky edge to it and his eyes still hadn’t left her partially exposed breasts. 

When his gaze finally met hers, it locked, transfixed, and she leaned towards him, pulling them into a deep kiss. Softly, he slid the robe down her arms, their bodies soon tangling within the other. 

*

Dressed and in need of nourishment, now a little late for breakfast, they headed towards the car. Mulder plucked a few large chalky-blue colored berries off a nearby bush and popped them into his mouth. Trusting him, she did the same, and they exploded with a sweet but underlying tartness on her tongue. Blueberries. And they were delicious. All different shapes and sizes from true blueberry blue to tiny, almost black, shiny ones. She could almost taste the pancakes that could be made with them, coated in freshly churned butter and real Vermont maple syrup. Her stomach growled in agreement. 

Mulder took the scenic route to the restaurant and with it came the history lesson about how Martha’s Vineyard was really nothing more than rock debris and glacial till pushed south by the great sheets of ice left behind after the glaciers retreated. “It’s an uneven terrain, more pronounced on the western side and has great stones like Waskosim’s rock that seemingly dropped out of the sky,” he explained. “The eastern and southern coastal areas are flatter, what was left behind by outwash plains.” Mulder told her this and more as she watched the nostalgic gleam in his eye grow bigger and fill with childhood happiness, letting her know there was a time before when he had a more peaceful joyous existence and a family to go with it. 

As they approached the restaurant they could hear a band playing from a nearby bar. To the side of the restaurant was a fairly large grassy field, a corner lot where American Pygmy and Nigerian Goats played with Alpacas. Tiny balls of goaty fluff trotted to the fence bleating their tiny mehs, tottered right up to Scully, expecting her to provide them with a bottle. She petted their baby soft heads. 

“Tourists usually come to feed them. You can actually buy bottles of milk for them inside,” Mulder told her. 

As they walked into the establishment, the man shelving glasses from behind the bar smiled in recognition. “Fox Mulder! Holy shit it’s good to see you!”

Mulder nodded his head and tightened his lip giving an appearance of seeming almost shy. “Chas, I was hoping your family was still running the place.”

Scully took in the atmosphere as Mulder and Chas talked. The inside of the restaurant was covered in planks of dark wood, the exception being one faded brick wall with the normal nautical decorations and pictures. The cozy bar area included eclectic comfy thrift store armchairs and tables with chess/checker sets. They were ushered to a booth in the corner which Scully figured would have been Mulder’s regular spot, giving him the ability to be part of the atmosphere yet separate. From her seat she had a direct view of the wavy paned windows overlooking the docks. She imagined Mulder and his friends coming home from school and stopping with their bicycles, talking about girls and sports, or even possibly Star Trek, while Chas’ mother made them sandwiches and iced tea.

“This place was built around the early 1700’s by Chas’ family when they first settled here,” Mulder explained. “You see how large the beams are? Those are old ship masts.”

Scully gawked in amazement as Chas whacked Mulder’s shoulder playfully. “Who’s the hotty?”

“This is my partner, Dana Scully,” Mulder said. “I had some business with Drew and decided to make it a long weekend.”

“It’s good to meet you,” Chas grinned and Scully could tell with his high cheekbones and surfer blonde hair he wasn’t turned away by too many women. 

“What’s the special today?” Mulder asked, clearly unphased by Scully taking up the spotlight.

“I’d recommend the lobster rolls and the house special clam chowder. My mother’s recipe.”

He wasn’t gone long when he returned with two pints of beer. “We just finished brewing it this morning. It’s a spring ale with just enough orange and spice to chase away the morning chill.”

Mulder clanged his glass to Scully’s, “L’Chaim.” Scully returned the sentiment without much thought and drank it down. It was delicious and smooth with a little kick at the end masking any bitter aftertaste. The meal was just as yummy, the lobster piled high until it was overflowing from the sweet roll. The chowder warmed her insides and tasted like the sea, clouds and earth all wrapped into one creamy scoop.

Chas gave them a moment to themselves before straddling a chair to catch up with Mulder. 

“So you two are old friends,” Scully said, trying to segway herself into their conversation. 

“Probably my oldest,” Mulder replied. 

Chas nodded. “He saved my life once.”

That raised an eyebrow from Scully. 

“Yeah, he got me out of a riptide when we were both about eleven,” Chas said, taking a drink of his beer, devouring a quarter of it from the glass. Mulder looked down at the grain in the table and Scully could almost see the movie playing in his head. “It was off-season, so there was no one else on the beach. We had always been told from the time we learned to walk to always swim parallel to the beach until you got out of the rip and never swim back in towards the beach until out of the pull of the current, but I got caught in the undertow with my surfboard and panicked. Mulder quickly ran in without a thought for his own safety, and, the athlete that he is, managed to grab my surfboard and use it for leverage to bring us both in.” Chas took another drink. “Fox is a good guy and a really good friend.” After a thought, he said, “He’s worth hanging on to.” 

Mulder cleared his throat and Chas added, “And he lived down the block from John Belushi in Chilmark, which has always made him instantly cool.”

The front door of the restaurant caught Scully’s eye as it flung open. A young boy ran in and headed straight to their table. Chas put his arm around the boy’s waist and smiled. “This is my son, Noah. Noah, this is my friend, Fox.”

“That’s a funny name,” Noah said, shyly.

“Not as funny as this,” Mulder replied, scrunching his face and pulling his lower jaw over his top, crossing his eyes. 

Noah giggled, developing into a full belly laugh, that turned contagious. Another pang hit Scully’s gut as she looked at the boy and at Mulder. Shadows of what could have been.

“So what do you have planned for today?” Chas asked Mulder.

“I was planning on taking Scully to our old hunting ground by the cliffs and let her play with some Snappers, maybe even catch a Blue.”

“They should be running today. I’ll loan you my poles and get you some bait. You can take my boat. It’s small, but it’ll haul your catch.”

The towering clay cliffs of rocky sand streaked red, yellow, blue, and white as though children collared them with a box of crayons. Mulder stood at the crest of the dunes with Scully where they could see for miles. Mulder pointed out the sights: the Menemsha fish market in Chilmark on their right, the Elizabeth islands stretched in front of them, the Oak Bluffs farther down to his left. It was a photographer's dream of beauty. 

Mulder found them a semi-secluded spot at the base of the cliff far enough so they wouldn’t have to move once the tide rolled in. Scully cast effortlessly, her long rod making a graceful arc as she hurled her lure beyond the breakers. The bubbling of the water only meant one thing. There were fish. After not much time and Chas’ expert bait, Scully pulled in a Striper, which she released by gently holding the fish in the outwash until it revived and darted off. A few more casts and she hooked the big one. Her rod danced as she reeled and fought the thrashing fish. 

“I think this one’s a blue,” she announced, grinning ear to ear, the smile on Mulder’s face could only be interpreted as one of pride.

“You need a hand with that?” he offered.

“No, I’ve got it,” she called back with a slight strain from the exertion. Avoiding the razor sharp teeth, she unhooked the fish with one deft shake of Chas’ needle nose pliers, administered a solid smack to the head, and knifed it through the gill to let it bleed out before eviscerating it. 

“That might be the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Mulder smirked as he raised an eyebrow. Before they were through he managed to catch some Snapper himself and together they brushed off the scales, removed the guts, filled some buckets with sea water, set two pieces of wood at the edge of the fire and pushed a pile of coals underneath to singe the planks. When the cedar wood started to smolder, Mulder flipped them over and set the brined fillets on top to cook skin side down. This was a rare side of Mulder Scully barely got to witness, but was grateful for the chance to see it today. 

Soft slow music from someone’s radio down shore twirled around them like a ribbon. Mulder felt its pull and inspiration. He rose and extended a hand, ushering Scully with his fingers. She hesitated, then took his hand. They swayed with their bare feet in the sand, a slow circle, her cheek on his chest, one hand in his, the other around his waist. Dancing together came as natural as any other movement in their partnership. They knew each other's moves innately, and what they didn’t they communicated with their souls. They danced like two leaves falling from an autumn tree, chemistry and fire lighting them up like a bunsen burner. Mulder became hyper aware of every part of his body in line with hers. Her lips at his neck, her chest below his abs, her legs between his. 

Caught up in the moment, he leaned in, eyes closed, heart racing, and murmured, "I love you." He knew it was too low for her to hear and even if she did, they were the words in the song. To give her a promise of something, anything, would be wrong. He would tell her, but not this weekend. This weekend he wanted to be nothing but enjoyable for her. Scully looked him straight in the eye when he pulled back into their gaze and his heart skipped. The song ended too soon and they drifted back to the dunes and their supper.

Between the cedar planks and the fresh fish cooking, the smells were intoxicating and tasted just as amazing. Steamer clams that Chas had sold to Mulder in case the fish weren’t biting were now smoking and hot from the fire. The fish tender and flaky. 

Mulder handed Scully a beer to quench her thirst, and a lemon and cocktail sauce for the clams and fish. She leaned over in her chair, tipping it sideways in the sand, nearly knocking herself over in order to take the food from him. Recovering with little grace she blurted, “This has all been amazing, Mulder. Thank you.”

Mulder shrugged. “I should be thanking you for willingly coming.”

They enjoyed the heat of the fire and their beer as they listened to the ocean and breathed in its fine wine. Every once in a while Mulder’s expression revealed his melancholy, and Scully felt him reliving his early years in his head. She saw the expressions she had seen a hundred times before and knew he was thinking of his sister.

“Looks like Bob Ross might have gone overboard with his white fluffy clouds,” Mulder said. He pointed out towards the horizon. “We’d better pack up. Fog’s coming in.”

Scully stood and peered at the white, faintly glowing shape sliding over the point. “It’s moving in pretty fast.” 

They packed up the bags and cooler and carried the chairs to the boat. By the time they were done, the beach had all but disappeared and moist white wisps were floating by them in the light breeze. 

Mulder waited until Scully was in the boat, then walked it out to deeper water and clambered in, quickly starting the motor. He opened the throttle and they were off. The dune where they had their picnic faded and disappeared into the fog. “We won’t outrun it,” Mulder shouted over the motor. It looked like a ghostly apparition chasing them down. 

“Are you going to be able to maneuver?” she asked, trying not to show the worry in her voice, but ready to take the reins.

Mulder held up his hand to calm her. “The worst thing that happens, we head to the wrong cove and it will take us a little longer to get back. We’ll be fine.”

Soon the small boat was enveloped in a cocoon of white. Mulder throttled down and angled toward what had been visible only a few minutes earlier. The moon now had an eerie luminescence.

“I got lost out here a couple times as a kid,” Mulder explained, trying to further calm her nerves. “One time with Drew. We ran out of gas and had to row home. Took forever, but we made it unscathed.”

He lifted the red plastic tank behind him and sloshed it. “Full tank. No worries.”

To distract her, Mulder decided to tell her a story. “The Wampanoag tribe had settlements all around this area. They fished in the bountiful waters, and grew crops since the land was flat and fertile. The English came, brought sickness, took the land away, the tale of most of the area.” Mulder turned the boat towards the determined beam of the lighthouse. “They swear you can still hear and see old wampanoag camps in the fog.”

The hairs on the back of Scully’s neck prickled. “Do tell.”

“My dad told me a story about when he was a kid, out fishing with his dad.” Scully gave a little shiver and crept up besides him. He placed an arm around her and she snuggled in closer. “I don’t know if you’ve figured out yet, but my Dad wasn’t much into ghost stories.”

Scully nodded, grateful for the warmth and security of Mulder’s body.

“The story goes that they were out fishing late and got caught in the fog on their way home. When they got to the cove, the fog had lifted and they could see a campfire surrounded by people in the distance. They called out, but they didn’t seem to hear them. Dad could see clearly enough that he said their attire was in accordance with Native American garb. Well, the next morning they paddle back down here. There were no signs that there ever was a fire. Not footprints, trash, nothing. He did find an old arrowhead though that he gave me and I still have.”

“It was a mirage,” Scully said, but at the same time, thought she saw something in the distance. She shook her head and shifted so she was facing back out towards the sea.

Mulder pursed his lips. “Always looked, but never saw them again.” Mulder pointed over to some large rocks coming into view. “We can go ashore there and call Chas to come get us and drive us to our car. From there we just have to drop the car at the rental place, check out of the hotel, and catch a flight. We should be home just in time to go to work. Might even catch some Zzzzs.”

*

Mulder felt the warmth of Scully’s hand covering his as the plane flying from Logan to Dulles ascended into the air. It lingered there even after they had reached cruising altitude. The vacation was over. It was time.

He looked out at the white fluffy clouds, then back at Scully’s adoring eyes. He swallowed hard. The armrest suddenly slick from the sweat of his palm. How did he start? “Scully, the other day, I saw someone that reminded me of Clyde Bruckman. It got me thinking and I wondered, if we did know when someone close to us was going to die, maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Maybe appreciate the time left…”

“Or spend it worrying and depressed?” Scully said. “I don’t know, Mr. Bruckman wasn’t fond of his gift.”

“Well, think about my mother, and how she didn’t tell me she was dying. Was it better I didn’t know? What if we could have helped her in some way?”

“Mulder, don’t beat yourself up over that. Your mother made her own decisions. She wanted it that way. She didn’t want you to know.”

“But would have it been better if I did?”

Scully’s tongue whipped over her bottom lip and he knew she was considering it more than just a passing whim. “If I knew that when I said goodbye to my dad it would have been my last, would I have hugged him a little tighter? Yes, but did it matter? I didn’t have anything I needed to say and I knew what he wanted to tell me. Why? Because he was my father and in the end, that was all that was left. Our love.”

He understood what Scully was saying, but he also didn’t want this to be an eternal wedge between them. Some vast secret, untold truth. She was his constant, his touchtone, she would always tell him the truth. That was why his mouth was dry and his throat burned. Why his heart picked up its paces and he felt lightheaded. All of this so soon after they just admitted their feelings, not yet completely comfortable in this new side to their relationship, so deep and exposed to the other and themselves. Looking directly at her, in her eyes, made it the most difficult. When he told her, she would tell him the truth and then, and only then, would it be real. 

His eyes fell to where their hands joined, the connection to the opposite piece of one soul. The pads of his fingers played with hers a while before they interlaced, and he felt a surge of completeness. “You’re right. In the end there are no words to say, only love.”

By the time Scully reached her apartment it was after two in the morning. Mulder had known that they had to be ontime for the accounting audit tomorrow yet Mulder acted as though he wouldn’t be phased by the outcome either way. They had been through these audits before and always came out the other side in one piece and this weekend, hell this year, had her in good spirits. Maybe Mulder was right and she should just ride the wave.

As she squeezed the toothpaste from the tube she smiled, pushing the paste past the indent Mulder's thumbprint made in the middle. Out of habit she checked the toilet seat and that there was toilet paper before sitting. Seat down and full roll. She flicked the switch to the bathroom and before the lights went out she noticed Mulder's aftershave absentmindedly sticking from her toiletry bag. A hollowness grew in her chest as she climbed underneath the sheets of her bed. For the first time, her apartment felt cold. Distant. Lonely.


	19. Among Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place around the episode "Requiem".

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50791932002/in/dateposted/)

“More alien abductions, Scully,” Mulder said, after their call with Billy Miles had ended. Just underneath his skin he could already feel the endorphins pleading for release. He pursed his lips in an effort to suppress his smile. 

“I don’t know how we could justify the expense,” she flirted, walking past him and then locking their eyes as she turned.

The look made blood rush to the area between his thighs and his groin tightened. With a jolt of the head he teased, “We’d probably turn up nothing.”

“Let’s go waste some money,” she returned, like she had just proposed oral sex and a back rub and walked out the door.

An alluring cocktail of dopamine, oxytocin, and serotonin mixed in his brain. With a smile of love and admiration, coated in a dash of giddiness, he took his coat from the hook and followed after her sauntering hips.

*

The envelopes rapped against the desk as Mulder tapped the corners before putting them neatly into the front pocket of his overnight bag. He would have to mail his bills before they left for their eight hour flight to Oregon. Toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, an extra suit and casual change of clothes if needed. He believed he had everything. Mulder snapped his fingers. His Walther. He never knew when it might come in handy and felt naked out in the field without it. Without a gun-safe, Mulder did the next best thing and hid it in a place he thought no one was likely to look unless they were the plumber. Up under the sink. When he reached to feel for it, it wasn’t jammed in its normal spot, but slightly to the left. Not a big deal, but big enough for him to check the magazine. It was minus three bullets. 

Recalling Jeffrey asking to borrow his gun, Mulder reached into his pocket, pulled out his cell and dialed his old number. “Jeff, were you in my apartment?” he said when Jeffrey Spender picked up. “My gun’s been moved and it’s missing three bullets.”

“It wasn’t me, Mulder, but you were right.”

“About what.”

“Someone killed the soul-eater. They think it was me, well-you. I got a call from the keeper and she talked about the night she says I shot him, but he’s alive. You were right. He can’t be killed.”

“Not by any typical means,” Mulder corrected. “They think you, posing as me, shot him?” A bolt of fear ran through Mulder. He had been having so many blackouts, lost time. Did he try to kill the soul-eater? What more was he responsible for? “Jeff, I’m hopping a flight to Oregon soon, so I have to go. We’ll put the pieces together when I get back.”

“Mulder, a Bounty Hunter, he is following me. I saw him. If he finds me he’ll bring me back to my father’s lab to complete the tests.”

“Our father is dying. Very soon he won’t be a threat,” Mulder answered.

“Mulder, he has clones,” Jeff replied. “Their only purpose is to give him constant regenerative powers. He’s being prepped already. Once the regimen of shots are complete, he’ll undergo the surgery. If it is successful he’ll be healed. If I get caught by a bounty hunter…”

“Lay low until I get back,” Mulder said, glancing at his watch, realizing he was already late to pick up Scully. “And remember, if he finds you, base of the neck.”

“Okay,” Jeff said, but Mulder could her the fear creeping into his voice. “I’ll wait for your call.”

*

The thick haze hovering over Annapolis didn’t match their light-hearted mood in the office earlier in the day, but as he clutched the gift he was about to give Scully, he felt the fog’s damp chill like the tendrils of the reaper. He took the stairs two at a time and knocked only three. Her smile greeted him and suddenly he was thirteen asking his first crush to the dance. 

“I brought this for you,” Mulder said, extending his arm to hand her the carefully wrapped present. “It’s not for you to open now, though.”

“So, if not now, when?” Scully asked as she placed it on her end table. 

The combination between her love of presents and her flirtatious glare warmed his insides like a piping hot cup of cocoa with extra marshmallows. “You’ll know.”

“Cryptic,” Scully nodded, jutting out her bottom lip. “I’ll do my best to restrain.”

They took the red eye to Oregon, Scully sleeping facing the window away from Mulder, a blanket stopping just short of her clavicle, her sleek neck elongated and exposed. The freckled porcelain was tempting and given Mulder’s new lease on life he didn’t hold much back anymore. In stealth mode he leaned over and touched his lips to the soft warm skin. His nose skimmed her trachea and just below her jaw. Breathing in her scent made the world deepen into rich warm colors and released the tensions inside him that were usually wound tighter than harp strings. The baby kisses didn’t satisfy and he found himself sucking the sensitive area just below the lobe. Scully hummed and Mulder reached for her hand and squeezed it. She pivoted her head towards him and opened her eyes. Moistening her lower lip she stared at his. “Mulder,” she chastised weakly, before closing her eyes and meeting his lips. He smiled as he returned her kiss. 

She whimpered against his mouth, and his body throbbed for her. Love bled from his heart the way it did when he was buried deep inside her. There was so much they never said yet the way they spoke seemed to say something greater. Their breaths mingled and her feelings pierced him down his length, hot white lightning from the sky to earth so that his whole body coarsed with pleasure, brave and strong and certain. 

She pulled out of their kiss, her eyes tender as they gazed into his. He gave her a self-deprecating smile. Suddenly he wanted to cry. The reason, not one he wanted to analyze, but the dependency he had on her, the addictive need to be near her, to want her happy and safe. It made him want her even more. 

The airplane was full, yet it was like they were alone. Why didn’t he say it? _“I’m dying, Scully, and there’s nothing I can do, nothing you can do. I want to take the whole earth and drag it with me down to hell, so you could make it heaven. I want to rip apart the stars and rain their magic so we could never part. I did everything I knew to prevent the loss you’ll feel without me, but you must move on, you must find your way.”_ He wanted to say all those things, but instead he said none, he did only what his will dictated and kissed her. Slowly. 

This time he was the one to pull back. Needing to do something with his hands he sent some hair behind her ear. The air between them heated. He felt her hand come from under the blanket, along his thigh, and then seemingly without thought he felt her grip him. He groaned. She immediately pulled back. Her sudden lack of control had surprised him, but the fire was already out of control. His hand followed under the blanket, over her waistband and between her legs. Her eyes darted sternly to the seat in front then the one in back. Everyone was asleep and he told her so with a raise of a brow and a shake of the head. 

Her eyes closed, her legs opened and she moaned in pleasure when his fingers made contact. He almost came right in his pants. It didn’t help that her hand had returned and was softly tracing his erection that was suddenly so hard it felt huge floating in his boxers. He could feel the swollen head prodding against the button of his gray slacks.

He moved his hands in the darkness, faster and harder against her, keeping their heated connection in their eyes. That and the sound of her breath were bringing him closer and closer to the edge. Helpless as she worked him roughly with her hands. As the sight of the pleasure overcoming her and the feel of her getting wetter as she touched him, tortured him with eroticism.

She bit her lip and groaned, whimpered softly as the orgasm took her, and it forced him to slow and retreat his hand, his fingers soaked from her pleasure, he watched her stare at them as he reached down, unbuttoned his pants, and covered the head of his cock with it. Scully groaned and squeezed the base tighter. Fuck. He was going to come. Mulder was suddenly very aware of the other passengers, even though the cabin was very dark. He slowed her hand by placing his on top of hers. She nodded in understanding and he left one last kiss on her lips and then she settled on his chest. Her ear heavy against his heart, her head tucked solidly underneath his chin. He draped his arms around her, joining the cranky passengers, and fell asleep.

They left the plane with their carry-ons in hand, rolling them past a customer service break room. On an impulse, with her eyes wild, Scully tugged at his free hand and pulled them into the room, shutting and locking the door behind them, pushing Mulder against the wall. They fumbled with their pants as their mouths and tongues collided, Mulder felt himself pressing hard against her soft warm sex. His hands moved to the buttons of her blouse, then under her jacked, fondling her roughly, pinching the peaks into hardness while her hungry eyes watched every move and her hands danced around his own chest and abs. He rolled them until her back was against the wall, pushing against her as she wrapped her legs around his, finding her entrance then thrusting into her hard. It felt so exquisite, his eyes were forced closed as he moaned in pleasure. Scully moaned back and moved against him. He moved faster and harder, until the pounding became jarringly intense, until his mind was a hazy disarray. Scully groaned and tore at his shirt. He needed to be deeper, needed to crawl completely inside her, so he withdrew, and in an instant, turned her quick so her hands fell against the wall. He growled as he entered her again, this time pulling slightly at her hair, riding her mercilessly from behind, thrusting in and out erratically. He came so hard, so sudden, a rolling gusher, spurting over and over. Mulder lost consciousness for the moment, blacking out and returning, his body punished by the pleasure she gave him. 

His cock twitched inside her for several long seconds after he finished and it was enough for Scully to white knuckle the wall and ride out the rest of her own orgasm. With haste they got themselves together and as secretly as they went inside, they were out just as quickly, gliding from star-crossed to work mode in milliseconds.

  
  


**Motel, Belleflower, Oregon 8:07 P.M.**

Everything I’ve told you has led to this moment, Scully and I, snuggled up on top of this bed in a three-star motel. Right before this, the bed had a mere single occupant. My hands behind my head thinking of my true moment of clarity watching Scully holding Teresa’s baby. The drive to Area 51 when she spoke of a “normal life” echoing off the walls of my skull. She deserved motherhood, from adoption or some other avenue. I had to face the facts. I was dying. I wanted her to go on without me, return to medicine, or go up the ranks and not hold back, to have a full rounded life with a husband and children.

This wasn’t the time for convincing, but demanding. Almost losing her in the woods shocked me into reality. Hard. This was my one last chance to prevent her from paying for the choices to follow me. For her to come home, not to an empty apartment, but to a stable relationship. She needed to live, not watch me die. 

I got up to retrieve the pictures of the results of Ray’s abductions and was looking through them when she came to me shivering. As I held her and warmed her body, I shared my thoughts between kisses. This time her needs and wishes must go above my own. The x-files were not worth her not having a chance at life. Risking more of her health. So much more for her to do with her life then be a widow. This time she would not fall under his guillotine. 

So here I am, laying on a motel bed in the place we started, Scully snuggling tight against me as I’m trying desperately to convince her without actually saying that she needs to leave me. She needs to live her life, one filled with love and family, a husband, a dog, and children of her own. A career that leads as far as she decides to reach, doing whatever she loves. This is the fork in the road where we need to part. My road leads to a dead end, while hers to wonderous blooms and tall shading trees. Her dreams awaken by moonlight, and happiness glowing with the sun. 

If my life ends tonight and I don’t wake, I’ll die the way I lived, chasing the truth, with Scully in my arms. With my last dying breath I will do what is necessary to keep her safe. I close my eyes and with our souls caress, I allow myself to drift, to feel safe and at peace, 

I breathe in her light and strength, out my regrets.

I breathe in her wisdom and beauty, out my fool’s decisions.

I breathe in her hope and promise, out my own demise.

I breathe in her faith and trust, out my own shortcomings.

I breathe in her grace and love, devotion and beliefs, sending to her my unconditional love and unyielding will to never give up.


	20. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The episode Requiem is about 4-5 days long considering travel time. That makes Doggett’s facts really impossible. At different times during the episode “The Gift” and “Within”, he said that Mulder had returned to Pennsylvania “the last weekend in May” and “the weekend before his abduction”. That would put his abduction in June which Doggett clearly states he was abducted “last May”. If you do some math and keep Mulder’s abduction on the 31st of May, Mulder and Scully were in Oregon the same weekend that Doggett states Mulder’s car rental receipt and cell phone records put him in Pennsylvania. This really calls into question the accuracy of any evidence Doggett received, what really went on during the month of May, how much of The Gift actually occurred, and the truth behind the brain disease. So I’m doing my best to work with what is in front of me. The Epilogue picks up during the two days after Mulder and Scully returned home from Oregon, but before Alex and Maria greet Mulder to tell him about the ship.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50797275283/in/dateposted/)

Two Days Later...

Sitting across from Mulder, making certain he had enough to drink and eat, was Margaret Scully. “I’m so glad you decided to visit. I only called because I haven’t heard from Dana. I left her a message and she hasn’t called me back.”

“We flew to Martha’s Vineyard for the weekend,” Mulder said meekly. “So she hasn’t been home that long to return messages. I’m sure she’ll call soon.” 

“Martha’s Vineyard?” Maggie said, her face brightening. “For work?”

“I had some personal things to take care of.” He tried to hold a straight face. 

Her body language was very telling to his observant eye and her smile begged to be set free. He put it out of its misery. “And I might have taken her to see my old summer stomping grounds.”

“Was this a date?” she asked. Her voice, soft and delicate, acting as a balm on Mulder’s nerves.

“You could say that,” he smirked. “In a way.”

“Are you courting her?” Maggie asked bluntly. It sent a fiery arrow to Mulder’s stomach.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he replied. His hand began to shake and he sent it through his hair in an effort to hide it. “I’m not exactly sure how to say this.” 

Maggie gently touched his hand. The warmth of her tender motherly caress as it covered over him reminded him of the way his own mother touched his forehead when he was running a fever as a child. It aided him to open up. He looked her in the eyes as he spoke. “Remember, I was in the hospital earlier this year. I had a procedure done to me and it left me with an undiagnosable condition.”

Maggie started to interrupt, but Mulder stroked the hand covering his own with his thumb and she paused. He sighed. The next sentences did not come easy. “I’ve been to many doctors, and tried some possibilities outside the realm of science, but it’s getting worse. I don’t know how long I have.”

Maggie’s brows tilted towards the deepening lines between them. Her hand moved towards his bicep. “You’re dying,” Maggie said, her voice strained. 

“Probably sooner than I would like,” Mulder admitted dryly. 

“Oh, Fox.”

Mulder inhaled deeply and rubbed a finger at his temple. “I haven’t told Scully yet. I want to, I… the time never seems right and when it is, the words just won’t come out.”

“She needs to know. She’s going to want to help you anyway she can. You’re so young. Are you certain there’s no course of treatment?” She reached out again, this time stroking his hair. “Fox, you’re like one of my sons.”

He looked into her eyes and saw the pain, the struggle to be strong for him. His own heart wrenched that she could care so much.

Maggie placed her elbows at the table and wrung her hands. “I had a dream the other night and it seemed so real, almost like a vision. But what you’re telling me now makes it impossible.”

“Like the dream you had when Scully was abducted?”

“Yes, just like that. So vivid.”

Mulder knew, even if they had never discussed it completely, that Scully had premonitions and dreams too, beyond instinct and average intuition. He believed psychic tendencies could be inherited. It pushed him forward. “May I ask what the dream was about?”

Maggie shifted in her chair and played with her cup. “I-I don’t know if it is appropriate now. It was only a dream.”

“Nothing wrong with dreaming,” Mulder replied softly.

“It was you and Dana, in her apartment. The two of you…” She got a very faraway look in her eyes, then quickly said, “Oh, this is inappropriate. Sometimes Fox, it’s just a dream.”

“Sometimes dreams are all we have.”

Maggie bit at her lower lip, then continued, “You and Dana were looking at each other with so much respect and kindness. So much love and you were holding…” Her voice dropped to a barely a whisper. “...You were holding my grandson.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why I even brought it up, other than it felt so real and I haven’t had a dream like that in so long it affected me. Dreams do that sometimes.”

Mulder covered her hand this time and gave it a squeeze. “It was a good dream and I’m glad you told me.”

They sat in silence for a moment and then Maggie asked, “When will you tell Dana?”

Mulder shrugged. “Soon. I just know that when I tell her, her life will become trying to save me and it’s not what I want.”

“I think you need to decide, Fox. How do you want to leave her in this world? What is it you want for her?” 

There was another moment as they both sat in silent contemplation. When Mulder looked over he saw tears streaming down Maggie’s face. She inhaled sharply only to weep aloud. 

Mulder’s face crumbled as he felt himself wanting to cry. “Don’t be sad. I chose my own path. I did what I wanted to do with my life. My choices were still my own.”

Maggie wept, then quickly dried her tears with a napkin she had set out on the table. She asked, “With your work, did you achieve what you set out to?”

Mulder’s brow raised. “In some ways, yes. The ones that put the plans in motion are all dead. I’ve exposed the supernatural for those who choose to see it. I guess the only thing I didn’t get to do is fly around in a spaceship.” Mulder thought, then added, “Depending if you were a co-pilot or a test subject, that might be a good thing.”

Maggie shared his smile. “Guess you have a point.” She patted his hand again. “Fox, why haven’t you told Dana sooner? She might have been able to find a way, or you could have found it together. She travelled all the way to Africa to help you. She came back empty handed?”

Mulder kept his voice low and steady, but strong, in an effort to make her understand. “There is nothing she could do, there is nothing to find.” 

“But how do you know?” Maggie persisted.

She wouldn’t stop until he was straight with her. “Because if there was, my biological father would have found it. He’s also dying. If there was a cure, he would have cured himself by now.”

The look on Maggie’s face let him know it wasn’t enough to convince her. Digging deep inside himself there was only one thing left to say. “I wanted to spend these days, the ones I have left, happy, without it hanging over us, and I am. We are.”

**F.B.I. Headquarters Hallway, 31 May, 2000**

Scully wrapped her strong yet gentle arms around Mulder’s neck like a duvet, her soft cheek pressed against his rough one, her scent still the best smelling thing in the FBI, giving her support to him, mind, body, and soul. He knew he was asking too much. On the verge of recovering an actual ship and he was asking her to stay behind. All the years she followed him, he was demanding she stop. In her eyes he saw her relent. She respected him, acknowledged him, but she wouldn’t let him go alone. Skinner would be by his side.

There was another reason that Mulder was searching for this ship and it wasn’t until he was on the plane with Skinner to Oregon that he admitted it to himself. The cure to his brain disease could be on that ship. 

While Mulder set up the laser lights in the forest in Oregon he thought about the connections he made studying the case files during their flight. Everyone that had disappeared also returned with anomalous brain activity. Now those people were being taken. The answers all laid before him, if only it would come into view. The electromagnetic sensor was now a steady beep. Excitement reached a fever pitch as his hand shook violently, his body next, but only for a moment until the ship accepted him.

As he stepped forward, his brain was cloaked in a surge of melatonin that put him in an immediate trance-like state. What laid before him, the light, the missing, the truth. After all those years of leading the chase, now all he had to do was follow. He stood before the chosen abducted and they accepted him in. As much as the light calmed him and put him at ease, almost a subconscious repetition of affirmation, part of his brain still fought to reason. What lay ahead was danger. He squinted up towards the blinding starburst of pure white light. These were the same beings that led the charge for the human drones, colonization, that made the deals with the mortal devils, that tortured his sister.

A warmth overtook him the longer he stared into it; the unspoken voice further reassuring him that this was the way. Mulder’s fears relieved. What did he have to be afraid of? He was at death’s door and the alien gods were telling him they would provide him with life. Whatever he had to endure, if there was a chance to see Scully again, to have more time with her, he had to take it. If there was a chance to learn more of his sister’s fate and what she was sacrificed for, he had to go. This was where it all would end. 

He started to smile as he turned. They knew of his ailments. They were coming to save him, they told his mind. 

All those thoughts and the voices ceased as he stared into the face of the Bounty Hunter. His face dropped and a lead balloon landed in his stomach. No. It had been a trap. Set forth by Krycek and Maria and who knows how many more. Now it was the Bounty Hunter’s turn to smile. He finally had him and he was finally going to get what was coming to him. Mulder’s heart sank.

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50797328638/in/dateposted/)

Frohike dialed Mulder’s cell and a strange voice answered. “Who is this?” Frohike demanded.

“If you’re looking for Jeffrey,” the voice said, “You’re too late.”

Frohike hung up. He forgot Mulder had given him his cell phone. He searched in his contacts then dialed the other number. Another voice answered that wasn’t Mulder’s. “Skinner?”

“This is A.D. Skinner.”

His voice cracked as he spoke and Frohike thought it sounded like the man was in shock, possibly crying. “Where’s Mulder?” Frohike returned softly. “It’s important we speak to him. The abductees that are missing, they all had anomalous brain activity just like Mulder’s.”

“I-I-I heard the cell phone ringing and found it lying on the ground. Melvin, he’s gone.”

“What do you mean gone?” Frohike demanded. Then he stopped. “They took him? He’s in the ship?”

“He was right here. I was staring at him,” Skinner repeated in shock. “He’s gone.” Then his voice got stern like his military training had taken over. “I’ve got to go. I need to get reinforcements. I’m not going to stop looking. This was my responsibility. I failed him. I failed Agent Scully.”

“Agent Scully passed out. We’re on our way to the hospital now.”

[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/164474329@N02/50798083131/in/photostream/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for taking the time to read. I hope I was able to entertain you inside this universe. 
> 
> It's official, S8 is coming! I will end the story with Essence and tie up the loose ends.


End file.
